


In the Spotlight

by Blue_Velvet_Dark



Category: Real Person Fiction
Genre: Americans, Bad Puns, Celebrities, Cutesy, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Hollywood, Near Future, POV First Person, Romance, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-04
Updated: 2014-04-15
Packaged: 2018-01-14 12:28:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 41,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1266604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blue_Velvet_Dark/pseuds/Blue_Velvet_Dark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I have the most amazing agent in the world. I emerged from obscurity onto the big screen in what felt like no time. Now, with my blossoming career in film, my best friend in the entire world, and enough drive, I feel like I can accomplish anything. That apparently means fighting paparazzi, figuring out Hollywood, and dating Benedict Cumberbatch. This is going to be fun.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1. Showtime!

**Author's Note:**

> Prepare for fluff. Tags will change, because I have noooo idea what I'm doing.
> 
> Ideas for chapters? Comment! I will keep this going for as long as I can keep writing it.

I have never been so nervous in my entire life. Being on set, in front of a camera, on a stage in front of three hundred people, none of that bothered me. It was second nature. But this was a televised, unscripted interview and my mouth loved to get away from me. My head was swimming and I was shuffling around backstage like a madwoman, waiting to be announced out for the very first time. My gracious host, the one and only Ellen Degeneres, had already tried to soothe my worries before taping began, but I still felt like I might pee on myself in anxiety.

I got a light hand on my shoulder and a lank man with a headset leaned in and said she would be calling me out in just a moment. I took a deep, shuddering breath, and retreated into a place in my mind where all that mattered was acting. There were cameras, like in the studios, and an audience, like in the theatre. I had done this so many times before in the past eight years, but now people knew my name. I am also really, really shit at improv.

I could hear the audience shouting and clapping as the “commercial break” ended and then through the live broadcast to backstage, I watched as Ellen began to announce me. This was it.

“Our next guest has only seen the big screen four times, but she already has a growing following. You may know her from Matchmaker or the upcoming remake of The Sun Also Rises, please welcome Nell Fraiser!” 

I smoothed my dress subconsciously, and took strong steps out onto the bright of the stage. To my complete surprise, people were clapping and cheering. I smiled to them excitedly, and it wasn’t fake. It was nice to hear them, to feel them actually recognize me and to acknowledge me in a positive way. Why would any celebrity turn to drugs when they could get high off of this? I was suddenly far more comfortable as I came up to Ellen, and she gave me a friendly embrace. 

“First of all, congratulations on your recent successes, you just finished up filming the last of The Sun Also Rises a couple weeks ago, so what was that like for you as your second larger role?”

I thought about that briefly, but answered her as quickly as I could. “It’s really interesting, doing a remake. There are definitely things that were done differently, for instance that my character, Lady Brett, was originally a British woman and I am clearly not. It was filmed primarily out of the country, which was a whole new experience for me but I really loved it. I loved the cast, I loved the sets, I picked up a bit of French. I almost didn’t take the role because I hate Hemingway but I’m very glad that I did.”

“I hear, Nell, that you are extremely star struck by a lot of the actors and actresses you’ve been meeting as of late.” She said to me, and I knew which anecdote she was trying to pry from me.

I smiled and looked into my lap, trying not to laugh. “Oh, I still look at every celebrity and big name like I was a six year old with a crush on them, really. I came for my first real meeting with the cast of Matchmaker and I got out of my rental car, and I didn’t even make it across the parking lot before I saw Andrew Garfield, and he was on the phone outside, and I… fell down.”

“You fell down?”

“Um, yeah. I just sort of laid there. I didn’t know what to do so I just didn’t move and I kind of stared at the clouds and sang to myself very quietly and tried not to cry. But then Andrew Garfield came over and recognized me and he asked if I was alright and I just started sobbing and singing louder and I had a panic attack.” I couldn’t help but laugh a little bit at myself. Luckily it didn’t embarrass me, I thought it was really nice to be able to make fun of myself for these things instead of beating myself up. Luckily, the audience and Ellen thought it was wonderful as well.

“But everything turned out fine, otherwise there wouldn’t be a movie.” She said, and I nodded and grinned. “You also had a run-in with Robert Downey, Jr. on the last week of filming for The Sun Also Rises, when he was on vacation, didn’t you?”

“I accidentally punched him.” The words sort of fell out of my mouth, but there was no other way to describe it. “Not in the face or anything, but I got overexcited because he’s one of the reasons I wanted to get more into acting and I think he’s a great person. I just sort of-” I demonstrated by flailing my arms excitedly. “-And I hit him in the nipple and he just looked really shocked and then laughed and I have made like fourteen twitter posts apologizing for being an idiot.”

“Well, actually, I talked to Robert recently and he said that where he’s from, getting punched in the nipple is a great compliment, but next time you should try a little squeeze and twist, that’s the key to really honoring him.” The audience found that ridiculously funny, and so did I. “But, speaking of him, you have a background in theatre, but what or who are the reasons you decided to start auditioning for television and movie roles?”

I leaned back into the plush chair, feeling way more at home than I did five minutes ago. “Well, Robert Downey, Jr., of course, and Meryl Streep. I really hope I get the chance to meet her one of these days, she’s a brilliant, powerful actress. She could play any role and be wonderful, I don‘t care if it‘s the Queen of England or an infant with great makeup, she could do it. And especially Benedict Cumberbatch. I grew up pouring myself over The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes, and he did such an amazing job with the BBC adaptation over the last couple years, and then I watched basically everything else he has been in so far. I had already gotten my first minor role in a movie, but I just could not get enough of how talented he is and I just decided that if I was going to keep shooting for larger roles, I wanted him to be my inspiration on how to be a good actor and how to be a good person. Oh god I sound like one of his fan girls.” I smiled and blushed and regretted my mouth for getting away from me again. Luckily, Ellen made a tiny comment but then changed the subject.

“You worked with Andrew Garfield and Emma Stone in the same movie. What was it like, to have them dating during filming?” She said, taking some of the weight off my shoulders.

“They had such a good chemistry on screen, I couldn’t imagine them not dating after watching them together. They’re a really nice couple, very sweet people, and you catch them goofing off all the time. It was wonderful to work with them.”

That’s how the rest of the interview went, talking about my roles, my sudden jump to fame from obscure background characters in television to major characters of two movies, and what might be in store for me. I told her that I had a perfect agent, and that everything was credited to him. She asked if I was a natural redhead (someone in some journal or website claimed I wasn’t), and about my best friend, Shay, who I shared a loft with back in New York City. I denied the rumor we were in a relationship but couldn’t deny that I had been asked that for the past thirteen years. No, we are just the very best of friends, not lesbians.

I got off stage and I was exhausted. Absolutely, one hundred percent, exhausted. I thanked Ellen generously for having me on after taping had finished, and then I headed back to my hotel. I hadn’t yet “come into” my fame, Shay kept telling me, and it was pretty obvious. Most stars got nice hotel rooms in five star places with room service to die for. I was staying at a basic 2-star hotel with instant coffee and magic fingers that I would have been proud of as a little girl back in Georgia. This suited me.

I shot a text to Shay, telling her that I was done, and I was heading home in the morning. California was nice, truly, but there was nothing like New York City. I don’t know if I could get a break enough anymore, but sitting in central park with a plate of lamb and rice from the vendors was my idea of heaven, and the subway made me giddy still, after 9 years of living there. I am 28 years old, I shouldn’t be getting so excited about taking the J line, I would tell myself every time.

I missed it. I had been in California or out of the country for like four months and only got home for a couple weeks before I had to come back to the Ellen taping. I had another role, a side role in a drama, but I wouldn’t have to be back for some time.

The next morning, I was followed by a very small gathering of people with cameras from the hotel to the airport. I wasn’t getting used to this at all, and it was frustrating. I had already adopted the hat and the sunglasses, but it was working about as well as I initially expected it to. I politely answered some questions that they asked me, but ignored the rest. Luckily, I wasn’t so much of a star as to garner a whole lot of attention just yet, but even one of these people following me and invading my personal space was bad enough. I was going to have to get used to this, considering that they were already coming to me and I was just barely making a name for myself.

I settled in on the plane without a hitch, thank god, and in a few hours I was back in New York City with my luggage and my pride mostly intact. Shay was going to pick me up, or rather walk with me to the subway to get home. It took some time to find her, considering she is four inches shorter than average and the airport was packed. I noticed her sign before I noticed her.

The shitty, stupid, evil sign. If she weren’t so tiny I would have punched her, without a doubt. I saw it flopping around over the heads of everyone else as she held it over her head, clearly having seen me before I saw her. In bright bubble letters it read, “Snowflake Collection Service!” Shay and I had nicknames for each other, so she was my flower because she was always blossoming. I was her snowflake, because I ruined her day, or so she told me. The sneaking suspicion I had was that it was actually because she found me unique. 

I gaped at it for some time, stopping in the middle of the walkway and nearly being knocked over by a man who couldn’t pay attention to anything but his cell phone. Did she really…? I stomped over to her and snatched it away and rolled it up. “I swear to god Shay, you are dead.” I hissed, tucking it under my arm. She grinned and shifted her weight, staring at me until I grinned back and elbowed her.

“Had to get your attention somehow, you’re completely blind.”

“No, I have my contacts in.” I snapped back matter-of-factly, pulling my backpack back up onto my shoulders. 

She snorted. “Yeah, you had your contacts in that time you tripped over the coffee table, too.”

I glared at her, pressing my tongue to my cheek. “Let’s go, before we cause a scene or get recognized or something.” I put my sunglasses back on, and took my tote by the handle.

Oh, hooray for being only a minor celebrity! Getting on the subway was entirely uncomfortable with luggage, as it always is, but at the very least I didn’t get swarmed or stared at. If you’ve never been on the subway in the city, it’s nothing like public transport down south. You don’t speak to people, you don’t look at people, and you certainly don’t acknowledge that anyone else exists except for your own group. Making eye contact is the most sinful thing, I found out very quickly, and New Yorkers are not as friendly and open to strangers as we are in Bumfuck, Georgia. And very luckily for me, no one looked to see who the idiot-with-the-suitcase was. All hail The City.

Shay and I discussed everything we could in our little corner by the emergency door. She talked about her job, which was honestly a thousand times more interesting than mine. She was a lawyer working on the United Nation’s International Politics Committee, and also somehow made time to be “Professor Pasternak,” the sweetest high school history teacher I had ever met. She was an extremely hard worker and I envied her.

We also talked about the interview. It had aired today, and was on our DVR so that we could watch it together while I groaned over every imperfection. I told her about every slip I made, about the nipple incident and about me completely fawning over Benedict Cumberbatch on national television. 

“Of course you did,” Shay said in response, though she giggled. “You’ve had a crush the size of Texas on him since you first watched Sherlock. Your tumblr page is like twenty percent Cumberbatch, and half of that is him with red hair. You have a thing.”

“Redheads must stick together, we are a hive mind and can only be strong in numbers.” I defended, though I knew she wasn’t gonna bite.

Shay rolled her eyes. “Right, I forgot that redheads are telepathic, but only to other redheads.”

“Yup, get it right.”

We made it out of the subway and down a couple blocks to our home. We lived in a loft apartment that was surprisingly elegant on the inside, considering the rough exterior of the building, and the fact that on the other side and down from us was a kind of sketchy Eastern European bakery. No elevator, so I had to lug my suitcase up the stairs behind Shay to the door. You would think that we were silly college kids, because we literally had paper cutouts of our names taped on the door and printouts of cupcakes. I don’t know if we will ever grow up.

Immediately as we opened the door, our two cats, Skittles and Lyles, were under our feet, meowing and purring and being adorable little assholes. I struggled to put my suitcase down without squishing them, but Shay came to the rescue and scooped them up for me.

Like I said, I don’t think we’re ever going to grow up. With both of our salaries combined, we managed very well, and the décor showed; wonderful, high quality furniture, a fully-decked kitchen, and our bedrooms reflected each of our tastes. But then again, we were obsessed with television shows and movies and books. Our diplomas were hanging on the wall, and between hers and mine we had a Lord of The Rings poster. On the fridge was an erasable marker board that we wrote stupid notes to each other on, and we had wall stickers of various animals in very amusing, semi-hidden places all over the house, and even more than that each of the stickers had a name. If you guessed that they were all named after characters from our favorite shows, you were right. 

The majority of this was fairly new. When we were both just teachers, her at a high school and me at a local college, we got this place by pinching our pennies and forgoing cable and certain other luxuries, though my secret stash of cigarettes didn‘t dwindle. Once I got my first two on-screen roles and she got hired (By the freaking United Nations, let me reiterate) we could afford a little more, and when I got paid for Matchmaker just recently we went all out. Our rent was paid for a year, as we had no intentions of leaving, and we still had plenty in the bank. Life was going well for us.

I collapsed on the couch, and Shay stared at me.

“What?” I said, once I caught her watching me.

“Dude,” she said, putting one of the cats in my lap. “Take your bag to your room.”

“I’ll do it in a bit, calm yourself.” I cuddled the fuzz baby in my arms. He didn’t enjoy it and managed to slip away to lick himself on the arm of the couch. Shay continued to glare into the very depths of my ginger soul, so I groaned and took my suitcase to my room while she put our cheery yellow tea kettle on the stove.

The rest of the week was uneventful. I went grocery shopping and got a “hey, aren’t you the girl from that movie?” and a couple camera-happy idiots managed to find me and harass me, but otherwise everyone had left me alone. I knew it would get worse if I kept making movies, but I was okay with that. I enjoyed the work, I definitely enjoyed the pay, and I held on to my pipedream that maybe I could make a dent in the way the media treats women.

Shay and I fought the decision to adopt a dog, but neither of the cats enjoy dogs so eventually we gave up on the idea. Instead we settled for Chinese takeout and a really, really terrible comedy on Netflix. Absolutely nothing happened that week. Until I woke up and checked my e-mail.

I don’t give out this e-mail address. It’s my personal work e-mail that pretty much only my agent has, but I told him he was free to give it to other important business-y people. So, I don’t really expect much from checking my inbox.

There was an unrecognized sender in the most recent message, though I didn’t read the address, just clicked like I always did. If this were the late nineties my computer would be screwed. The message read;

To Miss Nell Fraiser,

A friend forwarded me the video of your interview last week on Ellen and I wanted to tell you how very grateful I am for your support. It is highly meaningful that you would place me on such a level, and I cannot express how appreciative I am. I had never hoped that I could become an inspiration to a budding young actress, particularly one with such a bright future as you. I have great hopes for your career and your life.

If our fates happen to bring us to the same place, please do not be shy. I would very much like to meet with you and get to know the Nell that the world is beginning to whisper about. Don’t hesitate to send me an e-mail, either.

Kind regards,  
Benedict Cumberbatch

 

I screamed. I literally, 100%, screamed. And then I screamed for Shay to get-in-here-as-fast-as-your-tiny-feet-can-safely-move. She stumbled in the door half-dressed for work with her brown hair tousled, a panicked look on her face. I jumped out of the chair, forced her into it, and just breathlessly pointed at the screen. She read it, and then again, then looked at me briefly, then stared closely at the name signed at the bottom.

“You’re kidding!”

“Well I didn’t fucking e-mail myself!” I coughed out, sitting down on the bed very slowly as I wrapped my head around the e-mail. Benedict Cumber-fucking-batch. I made an audible noise, something like a whimper, and Shay just grinned.

“You have to message him back.”

“Oh, no, no!”

“Now, Nell! Come on!” She grabbed my arm and attempted to pull me off the bed but I threw myself on my side to avoid it.

“I can’t!” I whined, rolling onto my back and pulling my arm away from her. “I’ll mess it up, I’m an idiot, I’m incompetent.”

“Yes, you are an idiot, because you aren’t replying to the e-mail.” She stood up and smoothed out her hair. “Get in the chair, we’re going to write this e-mail now or I am going to send one myself.”

Knowing her threat was not at all empty, I moved myself to the chair, but not without obvious protest in the form of groans and heavy sighs. I plopped down into the pink seat and clicked on the reply button.

“Good job, Nell,” Shay patted me on the head in a sarcastically demeaning way and I fought to urge to bite her. “Okay, now give it a good greeting…”

She coached me through the letter, and eventually I had something that I was not terrified to send.

To Mister Cumberbatch

I am so thrilled that you found some good in my interview, I had fret to think that I might offend you. But what I said stands; You are a wonderful man and actor and I aspire to be like you in various facets of my life, not least as an example of true human goodness.

While I would be thrilled to keep up an e-mail correspondence, please let me know if you are ever in New York or California. My time is pretty evenly split between my home and my work, so let me know. I really appreciate you taking the time to send me an e-mail and I hope that we can meet soon. Until then, I am always available through my e-mail and if requested, my skype.

Sincerely,  
Nell J.M.F.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nell is off to her first movie premiere! But who is that pulling up to the theater?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi friends, here is chapter 2. Please leave chapter ideas in the comments! :)

For several months, we emailed back and forth. We were both busy, of course, so I didn’t expect to get a reply every day, and some times it took a week for him to reply. Such is life, I supposed, but over that time I got more comfortable with the idea that my life is now being surrounded by celebrities, I was e-mailing the man that I definitely fangirled over (please, oh please, don’t let him find my tumblr), I had an IMDB page of my own, and I was going to a screening of The Sun Also Rises. I managed to convince Shay to come along with me, because she loves Hemingway and had plenty of vacation days to use, so long as she brought along a huge stack of 8 page essays and material to review for the upcoming UN session. 

Just to explain to your how close Shay and I are, our hotel room was beautiful but only had one bed. And we were damn fine with that. We styled each other’s hair and she told me when my eyeliner looked shit. The screening wasn’t a formal event, but we decided that looking nice was definitely a good option. My dress was white lace and fitted, with a delicate fishtail hem that stopped at my ankles in the back, and hers was a sleeveless dress in a dark-gray and white ombre, with a deep neckline and flowing skirts. After a brief moment of making sure we both looked lovely, which we did, we left the hotel and got into the limo. I may have splurged a bit more than normal this time, but it was worth it.

We pulled up to the entrance of the theater and we stepped out in a rush. This was my first time at the Cinerama, and it was already wonderful. No, it wasn’t like a Harry Potter premier, or another big movie. The Sun Also Rises was a good movie with a large budget and was expected to draw in plenty, but the cast was lesser known and it just wasn’t your major blockbuster. Thus, the people, the fans and celebrity-spotters, across the street were not thick and loud. It was nice all the same.

I could see Shay stiffen as the small crowd cheered when we stepped out. She sat in courts with more people than this, of course, but it was rarely with so many cameras and a screaming fan base. I put a hand on her shoulder, and encouraged her to wave. She did, but in a hilariously fake Beauty Queen style . We made our way down the aisle. She wasn’t comfortable, so when a reporter stopped me, I told her to go inside, where it would be much quieter and more calm.

The reporter asked me a few questions, filmed by a cameraman. She asked how I was feeling on my first movie screening, how filming went for the movie I played a minor character in a couple months ago, and how I felt about Benedict Cumberbatch coming tonight.

Wait.

“Um, excuse me, ma‘am? I don‘t think I heard you correctly?” I said meekly, eyebrows furrowed. Surely I heard her wrong. “Wh-who did you say is coming?”

“Benedict Cumberbatch.”

“Oh.” I was lost in my thoughts and just kind of blurted something out. Something very, very Southern. “Well it makes me happier’n hell. If y‘all don‘t mind, I‘m gonna‘ go find my friend.”

Shit! I always do this. I can mask my accent and tone down my ‘southernisms’ only for as long as I am calm and controlled. But at that moment I was not calm and I was not controlled and now that clip of me being the most southern person on the planet was probably going to be the only thing they showed on the internet. By tomorrow that statement was going to be on tumblr and I was f-u-c-k-e-d.

I made my way inside the theater as gracefully as I could in my state. Inside the dome was much nicer than I thought it was going to be - to be honest the Cinerama is one hell of an ugly building, thanks to the 60‘s. Shay was waiting for me by the door, and she looked at me thoughtfully. I’m sure I looked a mess, my heart beating rapidly and I was red in the face. She could tell something was up.

“Nell, are you okay?”

“Do you know who is fucking coming here? Are you aware of the situation that is about to occur because it makes about as much sense as tits on a snake and I reckon I’m about to faint.” I said it all in one breath, looking around the lobby to make sure that he wasn’t already here. No, we were good for another couple minutes. “Horse hockey!” I spat quietly, turning back to Shay. She was grinning ear to ear. She loved Southern me, but I’m not sure why.

“Okay, Nell, calm down.” She said, trying to stifle her giggles. “What’s wrong?”

I took a couple deep breaths and tried to get myself wound down. “Benedict Cumberbatch is coming here.”

“Oh.” Shay said, then understood my panic. She placed her hands on my shoulders, a bit of a reach, and tried to get me cooled. “It’s alright, don’t worry about it. You‘ve been e-mailing him for a while now, he‘s pretty much your friend by this point so there‘s nothing to worry about.”

I knew on some level that she was right, but that didn’t make it easier for my poor heart. But, judging by the swelling shouts outside, I didn’t have any more time. I peeked out the door, and the pit in my stomach wound up around my esophagus and into my brain. He had stepped out of the car, tall and dark and suited. He was elegance personified and I was a flailing mess and there was no hope at all.

Shay snapped me back into the present, forever my savior, and took my hand and led me over past the concession stand. “If we stand over here it’s going to give you more time to collect yourself. You don’t really want to Southern all over him, do you?” I shook my head. “Okay. Get a grip.”

I almost had said grip, I could taste it, but then there was a very light tap on my shoulder. “Pardon me, Miss Nell?”

Baritone God, forgive me. I turned around and in spite of all my nervousness and the shuddering, fluttering horror in my stomach, I melted into a pool of smiles. I knew it was coming but I was still a little shocked when he pulled me into a hug. And because of the shock, I said a thing. Another very, very southern thing, all the while with my arms about his neck.

“Boy, y’ain’t got the sense God gave a goose and I have half a mind to whup ya’ to the hick’ry and back. Y’all ought send a message a’furn doing some shit, n’now I feel like a whore at sermon.” He took me by the shoulders and held me at arms length.

He looked a bit startled at my sudden Southern. “I think I am supposed to be insulted, but I’m not sure what any of that meant to be perfectly honest.”

Shay piped up behind me. “I can translate. Basically, she said, ‘You have no common sense and I should beat your ass for not telling me you were coming. Next time, e-mail me because now I’m nervous and embarrassed.’ Southerners express joy by insulting people they care about, I think.”

My face was red and I was trying not to laugh. He wasn’t trying, he just laughed and pulled me into another warm hug. When he finally took a step back from me, he shook Shay’s hand and they did their introductions.

“Where exactly are you from, Nell, to have picked up such phrases?” He asked me, and my face reddened again.

“I’m from a little town in Georgia. The majority of us don‘t even speak that way, but I‘m apparently oversensitive to phrases.” I had somehow managed to return to a bit more of a calm state and stop sounding like I was about to put on cowboy boots. “They make their appearance when I get… excited.” Or confused or angry or horny, I thought to myself.

Benedict didn’t seem to mind. “Well, I’m sure that if I knew what you were saying it would be very endearing.”

Embarrassed, I looked to the floor. “Good grief, Charlie Brown. What are you doing here?”

He shrugged, and I couldn’t help but notice the way his suit was tailored so perfectly it barely rippled across his shoulders at the movement. “I need to be here next week, and this week wasn’t particularly eventful, so I had my agent get it set up. Quietly, of course. I was hoping to surprise you, but now I see that that was a definite mistake on my part. I’m still not sure what a ‘hick’ry’ is, but I don’t think I want you to ‘whup’ me towards it.”

Stuttering, I explained quietly, “A h-hickory bush is what southern mothers use t-to punish their children. They take off a long, thin branch and whip you with it across the th-thighs, not d-dissimilar to caning.” Then I realized how awkward that was. “Sorry.”

Benedict just grinned. “Quite alright. I promise, no more surprise appearances.” He thumbed my nose and I was acutely aware of the way my nose turned up slightly, of every dark freckle on my face, and that I have not plucked my eyebrows recently. But I smiled and thanked him.

“Will you be at the after party?” Shay asked, thankfully breaking the few seconds of silence.

“Yes, for a time,” Benedict said, hands in his pockets. “I have someone I would like to meet before it gets too late, but if you’ll be in town for a little while, I’d very much like to meet up with you tomorrow or whenever possible.”

“Yes,” I said with a nod. “We’ll be here until Tuesday, we’re not in any hurry to get back on a plane. I can give you our hotel information before you leave.”

“Wonderful.” he said with a toothy smile. But our meeting was cut short as someone came by to talk to him (he is the bigger star of course) and then soon after I had people wanting to speak to me, as well. I enjoyed attention, there was no doubt, but I just wanted to talk to Benedict more. He lives six time zones from me and is rarely in the states except for filming, but all these people, my coworkers, other guests, they pretty much all live here and could contact me at any time. I hid my annoyance, hoping for another chance to talk to him before the screening.

That chance didn’t come, though, and we were all seated quickly enough. The room was strange, round but the seats all faced south. The screen was absolutely massive, and curved gently. It ended up distorting the image quality, but was otherwise wonderful. I enjoyed the movie, noting all the editing in awe and wondering how they managed to do all this to all that raw footage. Acting was strange, but seeing it come to life was magical. I desperately loved my job.

After the screening ended, Shay and I made our way out to the lobby, discussing the film as if I weren’t in it. She loved it and could point out every tiny detail of every theme Hemingway wrote about. But she could also point out the flaws, and I tried not to take the criticism of the film to heart as an actor who had no control over the movie other than reading the script and acting convincingly. She had originally (for all of three seconds) protested the fact that I would be playing what was canonically a British role, but in the end she had gotten excited over it and demanded I take the role immediately.

I was surprised and pleased when I saw Benedict waiting in the lobby after we used the restroom. He waved us over.

“Well? How was it?” I said nervously. His approval meant something to me, even though somewhere in the rational part of my head I knew that the opinion of one man meant nothing important. But I was relieved when he gave me a thumbs-up.

“It was wonderful, in fact much better than I had anticipated.” He said as we came to a stop in front of him. “Can I give you girls a ride to the party?”

Shay and I both chimed an “absolutely,” and he ushered us into his vehicle (we had planned to walk, as we were so accustomed to doing in the city, but Ben mentioned how ill-advised it was) and let me tell you, what limited paparazzi was there was in a tizzy over it.

The venue was lovely, and actually quite appropriate for the movie itself. It was a vaguely European bar and diner that had been rented out for the night, in a historic building that dated back to the publishing of the novel itself. Benedict took my wrist, not ungentle, and led the two of us away before we could be spotted by those who wished to separate the three of us. We ended up on a sort of half-inside, half-out level of the building, with seats next to a wonderful firepit where we eventually found ourselves.

We talked about the movie at first. The three of us touched on a great many topics, and since Shay was no stranger to theatre and acting herself, she definitely got a say in it. I was commended for molding the character, and he gave me tips on how to maybe be a bit less flat in certain scenes. But he admitted, method was nonsense and it was all about work and finding what was right for each person.

“So, Benedict,” Shay started once we had safely moved off the topic of my movie. “Who are you going to play in Star Wars?”

Benedict laughed happily and shook his head. “Like I’ve said a hundred times, if JJ wants to cast me, he has my number and I will play pretty much any role.”

“Might actually get me to watch Star Wars,” I joked, stretching my legs out.

“What? Have you not seen Star wars?” He asked, clearly taken aback.

“Well… No.” I was suddenly self-conscious again and dropped my shoulders down and brought my legs underneath the seat.

He made a noise like he might have been offended. “That’s fucking unacceptable for a woman in your position. We will watch them some time. Our own screening, perhaps.” He smiled warmly, erasing my fears again. I could melt into him…

“Oh,” I started, a bit dreamily. “Yes, we should do that sometime. I-I think that would be enjoyable.” I could feel Shay’s grin behind me, as if it were burning into my skull, so I tucked my foot back and kicked her lightly.

“Ah, Shay,” Benedict said, leaning over to see her better. She was currently munching on hummus and pita chips that she had grabbed from the bar a bit ago while we were discussing boring movie stuff. “What is it that you do? We haven’t talked much of you tonight.”

“I’m a high school history teacher, for the most time,” She said once she had swallowed what had been in her mouth. “But I also work with the United Nations as a lawyer in International Politics.”

Benedict gave an impressed whistle. “Those are both quite the accomplishments. What is your current issue or case?”

“Well, I’m currently developing a case related to the situation in Ukraine, but I’m not capable of talking much about it, to be frank.” 

“Is it hard to do both jobs?”

“A bit,” Shay pushed the hummus around the little cup with a chip. “For the most part I can manage perfectly well, but when session comes up it gets a bit crazier. Otherwise I just read documents all day and make calls and occasional visits to the UN.” 

He gave a glance at his watch, then stood up slowly as if he regretted it. “My dear ladies, I’m afraid I have to leave. But I believe I was promised hotel information?”

I gave him our hotel name and room number and told him to come up at any time, that we had no plans for tomorrow. He hugged Shay, who was closer to him at that point, and then he leaned over and gave me my hug, plus a chaste little kiss on the cheek. I felt a ping of sadness as he left, but eagerness for tomorrow took that place.

“Shay,” I said breathlessly, leaning over and staring at the fire. “Benedict Cumberb--”

“He kissed you, did that actually just happen? Oh my god.” Shay was out of her chair and pacing in small circles. “You and Benedict Cumberbatch are going to be a thing. It has to happen, this is fate, this was meant to be. You’re going to get married and have little ginger babies and live in London but your accent is still going to suck and can I be the godmother?”

I laughed a little too loud. “Shay! Calm down!” I said, out of breath. “It was just a friendly kiss, nothing more. Don’t give anyone any reason to alert the tabloids about a relationship that doesn’t exist.”

“Yet.”

“Shut up.”

 

The next day, there was a knock on our hotel door around two, while Shay and I were in an argument. It was honestly one of our most heated arguments in the past few years, but I wasn’t going to back down. When I heard the knock, I didn’t bother checking who it was. Hotel staff would announce themselves, so I assumed it was Benedict. I was right, but I was so into the spat I didn’t quit talking.

“But I could die, Shay. I could actually die, and what then?”

“You aren’t going to die, you’re an idiot. Hi Ben.” Shay was spread across the bed on her back, feet propped up on the wall.

“Hi, Shay. Hi, Nell.” He said, coming in and closing the door behind him.

“Afternoon, just a second.” I said to him, then turned back to Shay. “But cookies are like eighty percent of my diet, I need them or I will go into withdrawal.”

“Nope.” Was her answer, fingering the embroidery on the down comforter. “You can wait until Tuesday.”

“I definitely can not. And besides that, you will take four days to get the ingredients and then work yourself up to actually making them with me.” I sat down on the bed and looked briefly at Benedict, who looked confused and a bit out of place. “Take a seat, hun, we’re just finishing up.”

He pulled out the desk chair a little nervously and sat, raising his brows at the two of us. “Are you arguing about cookies?”

“Yes, we are. Shay,” I threw a glare at her. “Won’t get cookies with me. She wants to wait until we get back to New York to make them ourselves.”

“Homemade cookies are better than store-bought cookies!”

“What if you got cookies now, Nell, and Shay can make some later?” Benedict suggested. Immediately, Shay threw herself into an upright position and turned to stare at him. I knew that her completely offended look was mirrored on my face, and it startled Ben.

“You don’t understand.”

“We ride together or die together.”

“All for one and one for all.”

“We share everything.”

“Money, sadness, cookies.”

“Especially cookies.”

Benedict looked far more stunned than he did a moment ago, and it sent Shay and I into an absolute fit of giggles. Once I got myself calm down enough to speak I made my apologies.

“Oh, I’m sorry you had to see that Benedict. Shay, I’m sorry I argued with you, we can wait.” Shay threw her arms about my neck before hopping off the bed. “So, Benedict, how are you doing today? If you don’t mind putting that little scene behind us.”

“Not at all.” Benedict said, clearly feeling a bit relieved to be able to put that behind him. I thought for a second that if anything did develop between us, he was going to have a lot to learn about Shay and me. “I’m doing fine, thank you for asking. I take it you‘re withdrawing from chocolate chips?”

I giggled again and adjusted my glasses. “Shay and I are really into baking, mostly cookies. It’s therapeutic, I guess.”

“I can never get my cookies right, but I do like to cook.” He replied.

“Oh, drop by our place in The City, we’ll teach you.” Shay said with a toothy grin as she combed out her shoulder-length brown hair.

He thought about it for a few seconds. “I’m not sure when I’ll have time, but when we all have an open time I’ll be sure to try.”

“Oh, Nell?” Shay said while putting on her shoes. I turned around to look at her, a brow raised. She gave me a look that I couldn’t quite place. “I’m going to head out for a bit. I’ll see you later.”

As she picked up her purse and hotel key, nearly running out the door, I was able to place the look and said “oh” a little louder than anticipated. Suddenly, it became awkward and silent between me and Benedict. I opened my mouth to speak, but he beat me to it.

“We’ve talked on E-mail about some things, but I have a question. You sign your name as Nell J.M.F., so what do all those letters mean?”

I blushed. I hated when people asked me that, because my name was so long and such a mouthful I just used Nell Fraiser as my stage name instead of using the whole shebang. Not even the tiny wikipedia page on me had my full name, because I didn’t disclose it all and no one who knew the whole thing had bothered to tell anyone.

“I have a long name, but I go by Nell Fraiser.” I said, shifting a bit on the bed. “It’s really nothing important, I’m sure someone will announce it to the internet sooner or later.”

He gave a falsely offended huff. “Surely it cannot be anything worse than Cumberbatch.”

I grinned a bit and looked at my feet. “I like Cumberbatch. It’s quirky and--”

“Ridiculous?”

“Yes, but it’s also very suiting for a dapper gentleman.” I looked up to him and our eyes caught. He grinned wide and snorted.

“It could be worse, I guess. So you aren’t going to tell me?”

“Not a chance.” We both laughed and I pulled my legs up on the bed. “But your full name is also a mouthful, so maybe I’ll tell you someday.”

“I could pull it out of Shay, I’m sure.”

“She cannot be wooed, Benedict! She is loyal to me and to me only.” I said dramatically, but while I was being silly he stood up and came to sit on the bed beside me.

“Okay, so I guess I’ll have to woo you, then.” He said in that terrible, rich voice. I blushed intensely, which made him grin like a fool. “Either way, I’ll figure it out.”

After a moment of silence, and once I regained my normal skin tone, I gave him a nudge with my elbow. “Do you want to go get lunch or coffee?”

He suddenly looked like some weight had been taken off his shoulders, but I was tense as ever. That is, until he muttered his reply. “Yes, please, I’d really like that. Can I grab a cigarette first though?”

“Give me a second to get some real clothes on and I’ll come light up with you.” I jumped off the bed and with a hop and a skip took my bag to the bathroom. As nervous as he made me, as many faults as I felt around him, I wasn’t going to dress up for him. Well-fitting jeans, a white tee, and a thin blazer was all I needed. I lined my brows and did my lashes in record time and unbraided my hair. It fell in waves down just below my shoulder blades, full and a rich red. It was my pride, I absolutely adored my hair.

When I opened the bathroom door to come out, he was waiting, leaning against the wall with his cigarette hanging out of his mouth. He offered me one, which I declined, saying I liked my brand better. I grabbed my purse and exited the room as he held the door for me. 

As the door shut behind us, he leaned close to my ear and said to me, “By the way, just call me Ben.”

I melted.


	3. Lights, Camera, Kisses?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben and Nell head out for a bite to eat, and learn a lot about each other.

Outside the hotel, Benedict - no, Ben now - made it quickly to the little "smoker's area" in a little corner on the side of the building before anyone could spot us - mostly him. He was dressed so casually and modestly if I didn't have his face committed to memory I wouldn't be able to recognize him. All the pictures you found of him online were of him in lovely suits, or his costumes for Sherlock of Star Trek. While the subject was on my mind, I asked him about the whole thing.

"Do the paparazzi get bad?"

He thought about it for a minute, flicking the end of his cigarette away. "They can, yes. Of course being in L.A., or New York, or London, it's worse because there are more people there who are looking for you, who know your every move. Everything for us is publicized, or there is always a leak, so they're always there. I'm actually surprised there aren't any of the little shits here now."

I snorted and looked to my feet. "I... actually know why."

Ben gave me a quizzical look, so I continued. "It's because Shay is with me. They won't get very near me when she is here, because she's a UN member. If they get a picture of her and it in any way could damage the reputation of the United Nations or the people who work for them, they're lives will be completely ruined. Yesterday was the first time they dared to take pictures, and from what I've seen on the 'net, they've cropped her out of almost all of them. But they stay pretty far back and try to scope out before they come rushing."

"How useful!" Ben said with a hearty laugh. "Some people try to wear disguises, Brad Pitt even sends out decoys. But you have a built in anti-paparazzi function."

"Except that most of the time I'm here, she isn't with me. She's at work, or going over her cases, or doing whatever."

"Ah, very true."

"So," I said, trying to continue with my first question, taking a quick drag of my cigarette. "If I get to the point where people are wanting pictures of me more, what can I do to make it more bearable, what can I do to keep bad things out of the tabloids?"

"First of all," he said, clearly having thought about all of this. "Try not to yell at them or try to get even or anything like that. Inevitably, some people will agree with your actions, but some will tell you that you asked for the attention by having this career. It's a load of shit, but it happens. Try not to go out looking horrible. Especially for you-" he reached up and touched my chin very gently. "-They will obsess over everything from your hair to your shoes. Sometimes I want to go to the store in my pajamas, but I can't. Taking a few extra minutes can make your life a hell of a lot easier."

"Simple enough." I said, putting my cigarette out in the little canister. "The laws need to be changed, the things people go through because of them is ridiculous. It's harassment, and a lot of times a health concern."

"That's why in England we are allowed to make them move during filming. It's a legitimate safety concern." He put out his cigarette and pointed towards the sidewalk where a man was standing with his expensive-looking camera aimed at us. "Ah, speak of the devil and he shall appear."

I snickered. "Well, let's get out of here, then." We both reached into our pockets and pulled out our own set of rental keys, then had a mini-stare down while trying to silently figure out who would drive.

"I've got a Jag." He said finally.

"You win, let's go."

While he drove around aimlessly for a few minutes, I googled places to eat around the area, since he decided to let me pick. Eventually, I chose a nice Mediterranean place that he agreed on, and we headed that way immediately.

The interior was surprisingly nice, with very upscale décor and lighting. They weren't overcrowded, so we got sat immediately in a corner booth. We got absorbed into our menu for a time, trying to decide. To be honest, with the way he kept catching my eye with his suggested he might have made his decision long ago, but I was the queen of being indecisive. About the fourth time I caught him looking at me, I just chose one of the things I had on my mental "maybe" list and put the menu down. He followed suit and smiled.

"There's like ten things on the lunch menu."

"I had to consider all ten."

"For ten minutes each?"

"It's been five minutes!" I laughed, but agreed that I was indecisive to a fault.

Just then, the first person came up with their pen and paper asking for an autograph -- from him, not me, of course. I could tell it made him uncomfortable, but he signed it anyway, then once they were gone he explained that as long as there weren't ten people asking, and he wasn't doing something right at that moment, he wasn't going to be rude and say "no, go away." I couldn't help but smile at how kind he was to fans.

"Of course I get less people here in America, in England it is far worse."

"Really? Even after Star Trek? And Sherlock is actually really big here, even though the channel it comes on completely butchers the entire thing.." I said, taking a sip of my water.

"I'm aware, but still, I get more recognition across the pond." With that, he sort of put the topic to rest, though I hadn't been arguing with him. I think it made him uncomfortable.

"Does the attention bother you?" I asked after we ordered our food.

"Sometimes," Ben said with a sigh, looking to his hands clasped in front of him on the table. "I like making movies, I like my job, absolutely. But I wish people could let me get on with my day. I do truly appreciate my fans, but I want to be treated like a normal person. I mean it’s flattering, the whole fanbase, I am so thrilled I can make all of them happy, but I do enjoy my peace and quiet and getting to spend time with family and friends without worrying about being swarmed if I leave my house."

I smiled, though feeling a little self-conscious because, honestly, I was one of those crazy fans. I would have to change my desktop background before I got my dirty little secrets aired out. "That's understandable. You're one of the top celebrities in the world right now. you've got to get a lot of attention. You're the new Brad Pitt."

"Let's not go that far!" He laughed, showing that wonderful smile, the absolutely perfect creasing around his eyes. Jesus Christ. I'm pretty sure I was beginning to turn pink, so I took a took a long drink of my water. Then, my phone began ringing loudly to the tune of Carry On My Wayward Song and I choked as I tried to get it.

"Hello? Oh, hi, Tom." It was my agent, the ever lovely, the ever mysterious, the slightly scary 'Tom.'

"Nell, I'm so glad you answered this time." He said sarcastically. I giggled.

"Sorry, Shay and I stayed out all night. What can I do for you?"

I could hear Tom take in a deep breath. "I need you to cancel your flight and leave next week, if you don't mind. I know you hate flying too often, so this is better."

"What? Why?" I said, a little shocked. This was off the cuff for him.

"I've got you a new audition, set up for Friday." I was speechless. A week from today?! What the hell was he thinking.

After a moment of being stunned, I breathed out heavily and swirled the water around in the glass. Ben was being very patient. "Okay, alright. What's it for?"

"You are going to love this, Nell. It's a movie set in the 50's about a young girl - not the part you're auditioning for, of course - whose parents pass away, so she goes to live with her aunt - that's your part - and her new husband. They're basically the Stepford family, play Sinatra all day, the wife is a perfect, precious little darling. But then the niece starts to realize that things aren't right, and it turns out that the husband is abusing his wife and she has to make the horrible decision about whether she wants to be a social outcast by getting a divorce, or risk her life and her niece's life by keeping up appearances with her violent husband."

"So, it's what, the exact same thing people have been making movies about since movies began existing?" I said, though not meant offensively. He laughed nervously on the other end.

"Look, Nell, do you want it or not?"

"Of course I do, that is a very important message to send. I’m sorry for being ill," I resigned, knowing that I was just upset that my time with Ben had been interrupted. "I'll be there, just E-mail me the stuff."

"That's my little movie star. Make me proud." I hung up the phone and made my apology to Ben, explaining that it was my agent asking me to stay for this audition.

"I'm sorry did you sell your soul?" Ben asked me, scratching the back of his head in confusion. "I mean, like a year and a half ago you were playing a comedic relief background character in a movie that barely made revenue, and now you have had a lead, a major support, a minor you just finished up, and I know that next month you have another role in a huge production."

I sank back into my seat, not really knowing how to respond. That role wasn’t major, but at the same time it wasn’t a job as an extra with fabulous hair. "I really don't know how it all happened. I mean, the audition for Matchmaker was a complete fluke, I set it up, not my agent, that's the fucking crazy part. I went in for a minor audition and I was pulled aside and asked to come back for a different role in another film and suddenly got it." 

"It's insane, I mean completely fucking insane. I am... actually kind of jealous." His face fell into a sort of half grin as he shook his head at me. Jealous? Now I was confused. "Very, very few actors are capable of doing that. You have made a pact with Satan, and I'm afraid you're trying to drag me into it. That's why you won't tell me your name, it's some Satanic chant."

"That is exactly it, Ben. I am married to Satan." I fought the laughter and lost, and his rich voice fell in with mine.

"God... well, congrats on the audition, I hope you get it, if you want it." He reached over and brushed my hand with the back of his fingers, and I grinned shyly.

"Thank you, Ben."

"Well, if you're going to be staying a few more days, then we've got a little more time that we might use to get to know each other, perhaps?" His hand slipped into mine, slowly as if waiting for permission. Let me describe Ben's hands briefly. They are hands crafted by Adonis, and Adonis made them so perfect that he wanted those hands for himself. Holy. Shit. I tensed, then let my fingers curl around his. My heart was in my throat and I just smiled into his glossy blue eyes.

Let me repeat.  
Holy.  
Fucking.  
Shit-Fuck.  
If this is a dream, I will murder whoever wakes me.

To my dismay, however, our food came out just then, and his hand snaked away from mine and back into his lap. Which one of you assholes woke me up?

While we ate, we discussed me mostly, which made me uncomfortable, but he assured me that there was less information about me on the internet than there was about him, which I couldn't really argue. I told him about my background; I came from small-town Georgia in an impoverished family, with my parents and two older brothers, Matt and Gary. I poured myself into my studies as an escape mechanism, graduated top 5%, and went to the best university in Georgia. I then transferred the next year so that I could go to school with Shay, my New York friend who I had met in an AOL chat room in 2001. That year was also the year I got my first audition at a local theatre. With her help, and gratuitous scholarships and loans, I got my bachelors in mathematics in New York in 2007, at age 21. I pursued my masters, holding down my own little online shop where I did custom, high quality corsetry, which was a passion of mine. I graduated in 2009, ahead of schedule, and was given a conditional teaching position at a local college, working with high-achieving high school students and under-achieving college students, which was my own flavor of hell.

Oh, whoops, hold on, someone wants another autograph. Done? Great.

Through all that time, I made time for what I loved more than anything; acting. I played in everything from Hamlet to an adaptation of A Streetcar Named Desire to original productions. No musicals, thank you, I cannot sing or dance. I admitted that doing it all almost broke me, and I had for a long time been on medications to help me cope with the anxiety, depression, and insomnia it caused. There wasn't a medication for losing my ability to be as outgoing as I had been before college.

I finished just about the time we finished eating, and he was watching me intently. When I noticed, I gave him the side-eye and cleared my throat, hoping to break his stare. He just sighed heavily and finished his water.

"Corsets?"

"Is that all you got out of that?" I spat, laughing like an idiot.

"No, I heard it all, I just... Can't imagine you in a corset. It just seems like a fetish kind of thing." He shrugged, his big dopey grin plastered on his face like it was painted on.

That was a common perception, what with the resurgence of latex and tiny wasp waists in mainstream sexuality, but I shook my head. "I made corsets that go under the clothes, worn daily - a rule of 23 hours a day, 7 days a week - that are designed for making the waist small for your own personal satisfaction. Not for sex."

His face darkened a bit. "Did you wear them also?"

"Oh my god, I am not going to dignify that with a response."

He laughed heartily as our check came. I tried to grab it, but he was there before me and wouldn't even let me see the numbers. I cursed at him quietly, but he just stuck his tongue out discreetly as he slipped an undisclosed amount of cash in the sleeve and personally handed it back to the waiter.

We stood to leave, but one glance out the window and we were both groaning. The street was littered with people waiting for him - oh, and me, too, I'm famous now, hello - all wielding the deadly weapon of shitty celebrity gossip, the camera.

"See, now I wish I had actually made that pact with Satan, I would have totally asked to fly out of here." I joked darkly, but he just sighed.

"Well congratulations, you are about to be the talk of the town. The internet apparently loves me, and every girl I am seen with in public gets the whole 'are you dating?' thing." He warned. "On the plus side, it might give you a better chance at that audition."

"Well, bring it on." I said. I was ready. I took strong steps towards the door and out, and the cameras started. Benedict followed close behind as we pushed our way through, making a beeline for the car. All the while, they were calling out things like "Nell, Benedict, what's the story between you?" and "How long have you been dating?" and "Are you two going to be working together?" We ignored the questions and the flashing of the camera and got in the car as fast as possible. For the most part, the group stood on the sidewalk, but a few were right behind the car or blocking our way to pull onto the street.

"How is this going to work?" I said, watching them as discreetly as possible.

"Somewhere in those bloated skulls are brains, just watch." He started the car, flashed his lights at them, and let his foot off the break. The car inched forward, and like he said, they moved. We were on the road with ease, headed back to the hotel. None of them had made it here yet, but Ben didn't want to risk it. They couldn't come into the hotel with the purpose of taking pictures, as it was private property, so we headed straight inside, despite my absolute need for a cigarette. He walked me to the fourth floor, silent. I could tell that he was thinking, but his face didn't reveal what about. We stopped outside my door and I fished for my key in my pocket.

"I'm going to leave, now. I'll be in L.A. for a while, so please send me a message. I would like to do this again, maybe do something a little more fun. Horseback riding, maybe? Let me know." He gave me that wonderful, heart melting smile again, and I nodded. Then he took my left hand and looked at our feet for a moment, like a scared teenager. "You know I want to kiss you, right?"

My poker face game was on and strong. My heart was bouncing from my toes to my throat, but my face didn't betray me. "Why haven't you?" I croaked out, swallowing hard.

He shrugged and gave my hand a squeeze. "Didn't know if you would let me. I don't want to kiss you if you don't want it, and I can't tell what you've been thinking or if you wanted..."

I was tired of his stupid voice all of a sudden, so I placed my hands gently on his face and shut his stupid mouth with mine. He was absolutely shocked and tense, but I didn't let go until he was leaning back into me, with one hand on the back of my head and the other on the small of my back. When I backed away, I couldn't look him in the eyes for a moment, so I bit my lip and fought back everything I wanted to say. We let go of each other, and I clumsily unlocked the door, still facing him.

As coolly as humanly possible, I smiled and brought my eyes to his. "See you, Ben." He gave me a half of a wave goodbye as I shut the door. Then I proceeded to fall face first onto the bed and scream into a pillow. I was going to be Southern for a month.


	4. How Do You Ride?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A chapter in which Nell gets spoiled, teased, and very sill.  
> And in which I mention butts about fourteen times.

After a wonderful lunch with Ben, and an even more wonderful time spent with his lovely lips, I had collapsed face first onto the bed in mental anguish and unbridled glee all at once. When Shay came into the room just moments later, I was laying face down on the bed still, and it was a wonder I hadn't suffocated. She kicked my foot to make sure I was alive so I just groaned and rolled off the bed into the floor like a drama queen.

"What is wrong with you?" She asked, peering over the bed to look at me on the floor.

"I kissed Benedict Cumberbatch. On the mouth. Like three minutes ago. For twelve seconds." I didn't say it, I whimpered it.

"You counted?" She said, amused and turning away so I wouldn't see her trying not to laugh.

"I recalled," I clarified, sitting up and hugging my knees. "I recalled every detail, every millisecond, every micrometer of his lips. No, if I wanted to I could have used tongue but I held myself back, Shay, I did it like a lady."

"Stop fangirling, I have to tell you something silly."

"What?" I asked, though I wasn't really interested.

"Well, I met Ben on my way in the building," Nevermind, I'm interested. "And he said, 'oh, I forgot to ask her for her number, can you give it to me?' So I gave it to him, and then that little shit said, 'oh, I like to put in full names in my phone, can you tell me what it is?'"

I gasped in mock offense. "He did not! What a total asswagon! What did you say?"

Shay gave me the biggest grin I'd ever seen. "I said, 'oh, no, it's too long, messy, and nonsensical to be put in a cell phone contact list, toodles.'"

"My hero." I giggled and Shay helped me onto my feet. I gave her a bear hug and then collapsed back on the bed. "Also I can't go back to New York because my agent is dumb. I have an audition on Friday." I relayed the plot to her (let's be honest, I cannot keep secrets) and she had my same reaction.

"So it's another movie about something that has been done a thousand times?" I completely died laughing. But eventually we agreed that it would probably be a good movie, and Shay loved the secondary political message it could potentially send under the authority of a good producer and director. I had forgot to ask who they were, but it was probably in the E-mail my agent should have sent by that point.

Remembering that all-important e-mail, I checked my inbox. Sure enough, it was there, audition script and all. I didn't have a printer at my disposal, so I would have to do with reading it off my laptop and memorizing it that way - annoying but fine. It also included the other information I would need, like the time I needed to be there and the address to go to. Lazy as I am, I really just wished I could do the audition Ben-style by sending a video recorded on my phone, but oh well, this would have to do.

Later, Shay and I went out to get something to eat at a wonderful pizzeria, but California pizza paled into comparison to even the cheap places in New York. But there were plenty of vegetarian options, since Shay didn't eat meat, so it was acceptable. While we were leaving, my phone buzzed.

"It's Ben. How about Wednesday?"

"Oh my god, is he texting me from a UK number?" I said at first, and Shay stopped me dead in the middle of the sidewalk.

"Nell, if you are worried about the country code, you have your priorities all wrong."

"No, it's going to cost me extra mone-- oh. Yeah." I blushed when I realized that I wasn't exactly poor anymore and she was absolutely correct. What was a couple extra dollars for the cell number of THE Cumberbumber? With a sigh at my own stupidity, I texted him back.

"Sure. What are we going to do?"

I tucked my phone back into my pocket and hopped into the car, all the while Shay was reminding me that I was ridiculous and nudging me. I stuck my tongue out at her, and we headed back to the hotel. He never responded and I groaned when I realized that that meant he had some stupid surprise for me. Dick.

Midday Tuesday, I took the ever sad drive to take Shay to the airport. I couldn't go back home to The City yet, since I had the audition on Friday, and I couldn't keep Shay with me because she had classes to teach and laws to review and cats to snuggle. I made her promise to give Skittles and Lyles catnip for me, and she groaned at the thought of taking care of some essentially high cats, but agreed in the end. We gave each other hugs and said our necessary goodbyes, with me promising to be on the first flight Saturday morning. Then she gave me a piece of advice that I didn't expect to hear tumble out of her mouth.

"Oh, and Nell? Next time, don't hold back with the tongue. You're not a lady." She clapped me on the shoulder and left me standing with my mouth open and my brain muddled.

I eventually managed to shut my gaping mouth and headed back to my car. Before I started the engine, I sent Ben another text, anxious for whatever he had planned for tomorrow.

"Are you going to tell me what we're doing tomorrow?"

The reply back was nearly instant, so I got my daily quota of groaning in before I even got out of my parking spot.

"You have a bad memory."

Dick.

The next morning, at the crack-ass of dawn, Ben was beating on my door. It surprised me something terrible, so I screeched and sat up quickly and painfully. When I realized Iraq hadn't invaded the hotel and it was just some extremely loud knocking, I threw off the blankets, eschewing my glasses, and padded over to open the door.

"Is it necessary to use a battering ram to wake me?" I said, beckoning him in. He gave me a once over, but I really didn't care that he was seeing me in a tank top and boyshorts. He's nearly 38, if he hasn't seen a woman's ass before then I have misjudged him very severely and this was not going to work. But he kept his mouth shut and just came in with a bag slung over his shoulder.

"I have been knocking for like five minutes, I had to get you up out of bed somehow." He grinned as he sat down in the desk chair, which he had apparently claimed as his own now. I headed over to the coffee pot beside him on the desk and started it up, very clumsily without my glasses or contacts.

"What are we even doing today?" I yawned, stretching and going back to the bed to sit on the edge.

"Horseback riding. There's a lovely trail about an hour away that I've been on a time or two. I've already got everything set up." Oh, no. I've never been on a horse, despite every stereotype of Southerners ever. The fat beasts scared me, pretty as they were. They could crush you or throw you or digest you, I'm pretty sure, and other than seeing them in pastures around where I grew up, I had no interaction with them.

"Well, shit. Um." I ruffled my hair trying to think. "What am I supposed to wear?"

"Do you have any comfortable, thick jeans that don't have an inseam? Some flat, comfortable boots?" He asked, and I groaned again.

"Hell no, all my jeans are thin and have inseams, and I only brought my heels, flats, and sneakers with me." Hopelessly, I laid across the bed.

"I thought that might be an issue, so it's no problem." He stood up from the desk chair and pulled me up by the hand once he found that I wouldn't resist. "Get dressed, doesn't matter what in. We'll go find you something."

"This is silly, Ben, I'm sure what I have will do fine, I don't need to--"

He tousled my hair roughly to quieten me. "Come on, dress. Quickly, if you don't mind." I wrinkled my nose at him, but grabbed some clothes and shoes and trotted off to the bathroom. I put my contacts in, braided my hair, and dressed, forgetting all about my coffee. We stopped for a cigarette outside before hopping into "his" car, and I protested the entire way until he got tired of it and clapped his hand over my mouth.

"Let me do this, Nell. I want to." He removed his hand from my mouth and I gave him my best puppy dog eyes, but agreed. I didn't like the idea of him going out of his way to find me a pair of pants and boots to ride in, but if he insisted I wasn't going to turn him down. I wanted to spend time with him, and he had gone through at least a bit of trouble securing the day for us. I was uncomfortable, but willing.

He took me to a store, which he called a tack shop, and it reminded me a little bit of Georgia. It smelled like the farmer supply stores, like hay and fresh leather, but it was almost upscale in comparison to the very Walmart-esque places in Georgia where tall men in orange coveralls stared at tractors and got a bit poetic about top soil. I'm not really sure what they actually did, since I'm not a farmer, but those stores had really fantastic candy when I was growing up. In the front of the building was all the very obvious horse-riding and care supplies, like saddles and bridles and brushes, along with clothing over in the corner. In the back was the less elegant side of equestrian life, though interesting nonetheless. It was pretty much devoid of people.

Curious as a cat, I wandered off instantly, and he let me browse for a couple moments, reading tags and touching leathers and picking up things that I needed to examine for reasons beyond my understanding. Eventually, though he came over to me with a shop assistant.

"Nell, do you know your waist measurement?" Ben asked me.

"What? 26 inches, why?"

"Easier to find a good pair of breeches for you if we know the waist measurement. Women's sizes are so arbitrary." The shop worker told me, then escorted us to a corner of the store where said breeches were. Nervous and unsure, I took the ones the assistant pulled out for me after verifying the size was correct, and then Ben shooed me into the dressing room. I put them on one by one and walked out, stiff and mostly silent. I just gave him a 'these are nice' each time, and he would roll his eyes and send me for the next pair. The last pair I tried on were a tan and brown plaid, with stripes of pale pink woven through, and the inside of the thighs down to the knees and around the bum a thicker, brown material. They fit like tight jeans, but far more stretchy and breathable and they were actually quite comfortable.

As I came out this time, ben gave a nod. "Yes, I think those are quite nice for you." He said, and I turned myself in the mirror. They did look nice, I had to admit, but I was still so uneasy.

"Ben, is this really necessary? Couldn't I just wear my je-- Oh my god, look at my ass." If there was ever a nice ass, I had it in these breeches.

Ben snorted and hid his grin behind his hand. "I wasn't going to say anything." He came over to me and put an arm around my waist and gave me a final once-over in the mirror before making his executive decision that I was getting these. I was beginning to loosen up, and shake off the feeling that this was going to be a terrible experience.

"Up next, boots." We followed the same routine; got measured, had some presented to me, compared with my breeches, and chosen. I decided these, this time, despite being confident in Ben's eye for good fashion. They were a close match to the brown in the breeches and came to my knee. Though they were brand new, the leather was scrubbed and distressed and they were just extraordinary.

The last item we got was a pair of gloves, but the shirt I was wearing was plenty fine and I protested quite loudly when Ben suggested we get a different one. When the assistant rang up the items, I literally doubled over in horror at the price and told him to put them back immediately. To my dismay, he said no, but agreed when I suggest we split the cost. I wouldn't have him spend that much on me, whether he liked my company or not.

Once we were in the car, I punched him in the arm.

"Ow, what was that for?" He said, rubbing the spot I had assaulted.

"We are going horseback riding once and you decide, 'oh let's give Nell a heart attack by buying her the most expensive pair of plaid pants in the world,'" I said with a huff. He grinned, knowing it wasn't serious.

"Well, first of all, they're breeches not pants. I don't think I'll be buying you pants anytime soon." I blushed when I realized what he meant and that I had made a flub. "And second, I think you're going to like it. You shouldn't be so nervous, little one. Besides that, if you think that that is going to put a dent in my wallet, I wonder what kind of pay they actually gave you for those roles. Apparently not what you're worth."

My blush intensified at the thought of him thinking I was worth more than I thought of my own self. "I got paid very well, I thought." I said, though I told him I wasn't willing to reveal the amount. I got net points, which were really worth about as much as Mardi Gras beads, but the upfront pay was more than I would have made in ten years while I was teaching. After a few moments of silence, in which he pulled out onto the street and headed to leave Los Angeles, I smiled to my lap. "Thanks, Ben. I've been a whiny asshole today. I am very appreciative, though. I've been looking forward to meeting you for months, I never expected to spend any measureable amount of time with you, or--"

"Or kiss me?" His right hand left the steering wheel and took my left, entwining our fingers. "Your e-mails put such a smile on my face after a while, I don't think I could have avoided it if I wanted to."

"Are you trying to make my head explode?" I gasped, having forgotten how to breathe. He just laughed, and we put the subject to rest for now.

"By the way, Nell. If this audition doesn't offer you at least 5 upfront and gross, I would find another agent." He grinned, and I couldn't tell if he was joking but I laughed anyway.

"I'll consider it."

We talked our faces off about everything on the way up. He was so personable and so talkative and so verbose I could barely keep up. But then again, I was from Georgia where we never shut up. We talked movies and books, his dislike for the great majority of the internet, and I tweeted several times just to make him groan - but I assured him I wasn't tweeting about him. I did make him promise to take pictures of me riding for the first time, and he even promised that sometime, maybe not today but sometime, I could get him in a little selfie action with me.

Then he decided to breech the dreaded subject.

"So, when do I find out what your name is?" I rolled my eyes.

"Well, if you really wanted to know, you would look. Someone put it on Wikipedia yesterday." I said, and it was true, someone had edited it in yesterday. I wasn't, however, expecting him to pull the car over to the shoulder and take out his cell phone and check for himself. After the page loaded he looked quite offended.

"It is fucking not, you liar."

I turned to look out the window, trying to hide my threatening grin and giggles. "Oh, damn, someone must have edited it out." When I got myself under control and looked back at him, he was staring. I knew that stare. It was Shay's stare, the one that led deep into my ginger soul and forced me to confess my sins. I huffed. "Okay, fine. But you can't tell anyone."

"Promise." He said.

"Nell Jacqueline Montgomery-Fraiser."

He groaned very loudly. "That's it? I was literally over here expecting something complex and terribly difficult to pronounce, and it's just... Jacqueline." He laughed and pulled the car back on the road, satisfied. I was a bit relieved that he didn't think so much of it. After a moment, he added on, "It's actually quite pretty."

"Thank you, Ben."

"Can I call you Jackie?" He grinned devilishly at me.

"Only if you want me to call you my first murder victim."

"Fair enough."

It took a bit over an hour to get where we were going, which ended up being what I could only describe as my romantic interpretation of what a ranch would be. It was a large, open space, nearly flat, with cattle grazing very peacefully around and men tending to them here and there. The road that led into the area was dirty and not made for Jags, something I guess Ben hadn't considered when he rented the damn thing, but a little dust wasn't about to hurt anyone. We drove past a sign that mentioned that they also held riding lessons and boarded horses, but I had a feeling it was sort of... prestigious? I'm not sure.

"How did you find this place?" I said, looking around us as he pulled into the closest thing there was to a parking spot outside of a massive expanse of stables.

"It's what most of the Hollywood actors use when they want to learn or just go for a casual trail ride, apparently. Someone else turned me onto it, and I quite love it. It's got a distinctly California-feel."

"I can see that," I said as we got out and headed toward a building that looked like a combination of a classic schoolhouse and a home. The inside was more of a reception area, open and warm and decorated very desert-farmer chic. An older man in his early fifties poked his head out from another room.

"Ah! Ben, good to see you. Everything is all set up, you two can go on. You know which horses, right?" He said, looking a bit preoccupied with some paperwork.

"I do, thanks." He said, then clapped me on the shoulder. "Just going to go get changed, there's a ladies room down that little corridor where you can change as well." I said thanks, and he wandered off. I found the bathroom and changed quickly.

I got out before he did, shockingly, so I took a seat back in the first room, looking at paintings of horses and cowboys and Native Americans, and knowing that Shay would absolutely flip her shit at the inaccurate portrayal of an entire race of people. So I snapped a picture and sent it to her with giggles.

When Ben came out, I heard the heavy clunk of boots before I saw him, and what a sight it was!

"Oh my god." Was all I could managed as I looked him up and down, uncrossing my legs and leaning onto my elbows. "And I thought my ass looked nice." His breeches were tan and complimentary, not too loose or tight, with heavy, well-worn black boots, and the most gorgeous, pale blue button down shirt I had ever seen hanging down nearly past his rump in the back.

He laughed, and I think I saw a hint of a blush spread across his face, amusing me to no end. I stood up and he came over and put an arm over my shoulders. "Well, are you ready to learn?"

"Actually, yeah, I'm warming up to the idea." I said with as much of a shrug as I could with his arm about me. He kissed the top of my head.

"Wonderful, let's go find some horses to sit on."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please give me your thoughts and ideas. :)


	5. How Do I Relationship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nell finds out that she really likes horses, Ben is a wonderful cook, and he is also the best snuggler.

Ben led me to out of the building and into the stables, which were absolutely massive. There were horses and ponies of all colors and breeds, none of which I knew the correct name for. Ben seemed to know where he was going, so I followed like a puppy, passing horses who were snorting or eating or protesting getting scrubbed down. Over each individual stall were cute little wooden signs with the name of the horse, and they all looked like they were painted by little kids. It was a nice touch, and I smiled as I read some of the names, like Gumdrop and Banshee and even one named Trekkie, which I thought would be an apt name for Ben's horse. Finally we stopped outside of the stall of a lovely golden-brown horse with dark gradations in its color all over, like smudged spots. The nameplate for this one said Jupiter, and I could see why.

"This one will be yours for today, Nell," Ben said, reaching over the gate to stroke Jupiter on her nose. "William, the owner, has assured me that she is very gentle and very well-trained, but she's got some character all the same." Jupiter nipped at his hand as it left his nose, then shook her head gently. She was a very pretty horse, I had to admit. Ben unlatched the gate and led me in to stand beside her. Someone had apparently left out the pads and saddle and other equipment needed, which I'm sure Ben had arranged. He began showing me how to properly saddle her and put on her bridle, making sure that the girth was tight enough and the pads were on straight. Then he handed me the reigns, and told me to lead her out.

It made me nervous, leading a massive, muscular animal out of a small stall. All the fantasies of what could happen - getting trampled, kicked, or bitten - ran through my head, but in the end I got her out, and she was calm and seemingly happy. She pulled a bit at the reigns in my hand, but didn't fight me at all, just tested.

I followed him down the aisle to get his horse, and I thought I might die laughing when we came to that stall. The sign overhead said "Buttercream" and I felt myself about to burst trying to stifle my howls. Ben gave me a playful glare.

"I'm sorry, but... Your horse is named Buttercream. That's just so manly." I said, my voice cracking under pressure.

"At least I can get on mine." He quipped, opening the gate and getting busy securing and saddling her. Buttercream was a very lovely horse, pale cream and very young and healthy looking. Her temperament was lovely, but she definitely wasn't as well-behaved as Jupiter. He kept having to stroke her neck to keep her from pulling at the restraints and tossing her head, but she wasn't exactly fighting so much as getting impatient. When he was done, he led her out and we left through the other side of the stables into a dusty area around a rink where people would have their lessons. That is where he led me.

"Before we actually get out onto the trail, I suppose I should tell you how to actually ride. Don't want you falling off." He said, leading me over to a short little step. He showed me by example how to pull down the stirrups, check the saddle properly, and then he showed me how to mount. It was actually really exciting watching him, because he clearly knew what he was doing. I knew he liked horseback riding, but it really did show now.

After he was on, I brought Jupiter up to the step and did what he showed me. I took a step up, then put my left foot in the stirrup and swung my other leg over, as if I were getting on a motorcycle. A giant, breathing motorcycling.

"Good job, Nell. You might impress me yet." He teased, walking in a circle around Jupiter and I. I suddenly had a thought and started giggling. "Oh, what is it this time?"

"It's just," I bit my lip and watched him circle. "All you need is some armor and you could be my knight on your white horse, riding in to save my honor. Or something equally silly." He rolled his eyes and ignored it.

Then he showed me how to get her to walk, turn, and stop, so I practiced for a little while, getting use to the way I had to move my body along with her and encourage her to move. He showed me the difference between a trot and a canter, and how to ask and command her to do each of those things, but quickly added that we most likely wouldn't need to utilize those skills for today. I was feeling quite a bit more at ease by this point and not doing too terribly at controlling Jupiter, so he gave me a thumbs up.

He brought Buttercream beside Jupiter, reigns in one hand, and used the other hand to give me a pat on the thigh - then leaned over and kissed me gently on the cheek. "Very good job, Nell. We should be about ready to go."

And indeed, a couple minutes later a whistle came from the other side of the arena, at the opposite gate, and a burly man on the back of a brown horse waved us over. I followed Ben, quite used to Jupiter's movements beneath me, and he introduced us.

"Nell, this is Ben, he'll be our guide for the day." Ah, I hadn't expected a guide, but it only made sense that if we were taking their horses on a trail, it would be a liability issue not to have a guide. The horse had saddlebags over it's back, one clearly marked as a first aid kit and the other unmarked.

I gave him a friendly wave, then joked, "I don't know if I can handle two Bens. I can hardly keep up with one."

"You'll find I'm far less pretentious than that one," Guide-Ben said, hooking his thumb at British-Ben. "But I'm a Benjamin, not a Benedict, so you can just use my full name."

I snorted. "Please, I'm both Southern and lazy. Words short, drawls long." That could be debated, I was a relatively speedy speaker, but it made for a nice Southern Catchphrase.

Guide-Ben rolled his eyes with a grin, but beckoned us out of the arena and past more cattle, all fenced in. Past all that, everything opened up into gently hills and a large amount of tall vegetation, all just beginning to turn a brighter green as Spring settled into California. The trail he was leading us to was well-worn into the earth, disappearing over a hill beyond my sight and into an expanse of trees. It felt somewhat wild as we headed in, but it was maintained and clear of debris that could trip up the horses. Buttercream once tried to stop to nibble at grass, but Ben urged her on and kept her focused.

"I see you've got one of our newer horses. Is Will making you break her in for us?" Guide-Ben teased.

"I'm not completely sure, I think he's just punishing me for asking for this favor."

"What favor?" I asked, raising a brow.

My Ben turned his head and gave me a cocky little half-grin. "Well, I had to arrange it all so that I could bring you, and we could have the ride to ourselves."

"Oh, and what am I, a ghost?" Not-My-Ben laughed, walking his horse over a thick root as we came up over the top of the hill.

"I was thinking more of a mosquito." I said with a grin. I could almost feel his eyes rolling. I turned to My Ben. "So, reports are saying you've been talking to JJ Abrams."

"Nope, we aren't going to talk about it!" Ben said very quickly. "I will tell you as soon as a decision is reached, but for now it's all just laughs and contemplation."

I stuck out my bottom lip and gave a "hmph!" of faux indignation, then nudged Jupiter to pass him. He muttered something about being behind me wasn't exactly punishment.

"So, Not-Ben, where are we headed to."

"Well first of all, I am Ben--"

"Not the right one."

He shot me a joking glare and the corners of my lips twisted up into a devilish grin. "--And we are headed to a stream a couple miles up, then deeper into the wooded area."

I couldn't think of anything sassy to say so we were all silent for a bit. Then finally, I said, "Not-Ben, can horses swim?"

He groaned. "I don't know, can you?"

"Is that a threat?"

"No, no, never, of course not."

To be honest, the trip was so exceptionally wonderful. Turns out I really, really enjoy horses, particularly ones as sweet as Jupiter, and I confessed to Benedict how much I hated him because now I was going to have to take up lessons. He just grinned cockily. We crossed the stream after a couple miles, and I got a little nervous. California had just had a lot of rain and the water was somewhat high and fast-moving, but despite my fears of being washed away, Jupiter crossed calmly. I could tell that it was cold, though, and Jupiter wasn't liking it.

Benedict had a bit of trouble with Buttercream when she snorted and turned away from the stream momentarily, but after a couple laughs and nudges and tugs he got her crossing. We all chatted the entire way. I continued to call our guide Not-Ben, so he began to call me "Nell-From-Hell." I think it fit and I wore it with pride.

We had been riding at a slow pace for several hours, though it was entirely enjoyable. Finally, we arrived to something that was clearly a separate property owned by the ranch, a large, round, fenced in clearing with plenty of grass and shade for the horses and a clean place for them to drink. We unmounted and led the three horses inside the area, and our guide took treats for them out of the mystery bag on his horse, which I found out was hilariously named Bob. After we got them nice and happy and well-loved, Not-Ben went to tend a part of the fence that looked like it to was about to break. So, Ben and I took our time and went to sit under a tree in the far corner of the space.

"Still enjoying it?" He asked, once we were firmly on the ground. He stretched his long legs out in front of him, looking quite pleased to have a chance to move his legs freely.

"Ab-so-lutely." I said with a toothy smile.

His put his hand over mine. "Wonderful. Who knows when we'll have the chance to do this again. My schedule is about to close up again, and I am sure you'll get that part you're auditioning for."

I groaned. I hadn't thought about work almost at all the whole trip and I didn't want to start. "I hope. If I actually get the part I'll be excited but right now I just feel... blah."

He chuckled. "Have you at least got the script for the audition?"

"Yeah, got it memorized." I looked around, just to make sure we were alone, and pulled my phone out of my pocket. "Also got it on pdf, want to see?"

"Yes!" He said immediately, sitting up. I giggled at his sudden enthusiasm and opened the file, handing him my phone. He scrolled through, mouthing out the lines. It was a scene that I had discovered held a lot of power, it was the turning point for my character, Betty, when she went from a Righteous, Christian woman to realizing how bunk the oppressive, sexist, shame-filled system was. But I wasn't expecting what he asked of me next. "You should act it out for me. If you've got it memorized, then I can read from here."

"Oh," I was suddenly nervous, more so than when I went in for actual auditions. If he didn't like my acting, I might be crushed. I took a deep breath and nodded. "Alright, just give me a second to..." I didn't finish my sentence, just started shaking it out, moving the nervousness from my shoulders to my fingertips then out of my body, taking a few deep breaths. I turned my Ben-brain off and my Acting-brain on, focusing on words and feelings and all the core powers I needed within myself to act. "Technique" is a load of shit, but I think every actor has a switch that turns them from normal people into whoever they needed to portray.

"Ready?"

"Yessir."

Ben started us off. "Ah, Betty! You're early for service... what can I do for you?"

"Pastor Frank, I-I need to confide my fears with you. It's about Rich."

"Go ahead, the church is always here to help."

"He's been drinking, and it's so much. It's every night, and even though he tries to hide it from Barbara I know that she has seen it. I can't hide it from her, the... the bruises and the shouting. It's becoming worse every day. I can't raise her in this way, and I don't know how long it will be before he gets ill with her. I don't know, I can't tell how long I can last."

"Betty, I ask for you to recall the nineteenth chapter of the Book of Matthew. You are together under God, as one flesh, and it is unlawful in His eyes for you to be separated."

"Oh, but Pastor, please, there must be something I can do. There must be some Godly and Pure way... These marks grow daily, become blacker by nightfall. His scorn for me is never ending and the more he imbibes the more he finds fault in every thing I do. I have tried to be the wife he needs, I have tried to delay his drinking to curb his intoxication, but he can see no reason and nothing I do pleases him!"

"Then you must find a way to cure him of his sins. It is your wifely duty to take on his problems as your own and direct him towards the path of God. You have a child to care for, even though she is not your own you must think of her."

"I am thinking of her. She is my heart and soul, and I need to protect her beyond my own self. But Rich will not listen when I ask him to think of her, he tells me that it is my job to keep her ignorant to the things he does."

"You are her caretaker, not him. It is the mother's duty to protect, and teach, and love."

"I can teach and love and protect, however, I am not a mother, nor am I infallible. Pastor Frank, I am not Our Heavenly Father, yet I am being expected to do so much. How can you expect a woman new to her marriage to handle a child not of her own womb and protect her from the evils of drunkenness and abuse? How can you expect a woman to go through such pain at all, let alone with a child in pain of her own?"

"This is what you must figure out, but what you are suggesting is not in the righteous path."

"If it is unrighteous, then I can't in good faith call myself a righteous woman."

"If you stray in this way, Betty, I cannot help you. You have the legal right to seek separation, but you do not have the religious right. I cannot keep you from being turned out of the community, nor can I condone you staying with us in the congregation."

"If my punishment is so, I will leave. The people here have been kind to me for all these years since I was a child myself, and if they are so closed in their beliefs as to chase me from my home then I will pack tonight. That you are suggesting my scars are resulting from a failure on my part as wife is unthinkable, and while I am not a pastor or a theologian I cannot bear to think that our God would be so cruel as to deny me safety and peace."

"This is not God's plan, Betty-"

"To Hell with God's plan, Frank! This is my plan, this is my life!"

Suddenly Ben's lips were over mine, fingers entwined in my hair. I immediately sank into the kiss, arms about his neck, pulling him close to me. When the kiss broke, he leaned his forehead against mine and breathed in slowly.

"Pastor, I believe you have committed your own sins." I whispered breathlessly. He laughed and pulled me into a hug.

"You actually are wonderful, Nell. That was wonderful." Ben said, and I twisted to be more comfortable against him.

"Thank you, I hope they think so on Friday." I said, my head leaning on his shoulder. "Though I'm not sure why that deserved what was absolutely the best kiss of my life."

"Neither am I, but it felt like the right thing to do."

"You should rely on your feelings more often!" We erupted into giggles again before the other Ben wandered over and asked if we were ready to go. We were, so we hopped back into the horses and went back to the ranch.

We put up the saddles and bridles and gave Buttercream and Jupiter lots of love and a good brushing before we headed back to the car, full of yawns and with empty bellies. The sun was setting already, a sad part of it not being spring quite yet, and by the time we were back in center of L.A. I had been bugging him to stop at an In-N-Out burger for fifteen minutes.

 

"Why? Why would you want fast food? We can go elsewhere." He said with a heavy sigh.

"Because it's fast and most places are going to be closing soon."

"We can stop and pick something up, I have a kitchenette in my room."

I gave him puppy dog eyes and my best pout. He groaned very loudly to get across the point that he really didn't want to go to an In-N-Out.

"Fine, you fucking Yankee."

I gasped in mock horror. "Now, hold the fuck up! Those are fighting words, where I'm from."

He grinned and stopped at the light. "Well, it's not my fault your words are different from mine." I leaned over and kissed him, then gave him a wave of my hand.

"Forget the In-N-Out, we can cook."

"Thank God."

We headed to a store, and picked up some items. We had both agreed we could hold off starving long enough to make Shepherd's Pie (which I had been craving for the last three months, but Shay was a vegetarian.) so we got all the veggies and meat and everything else we needed. Our trip had thrown off the paparazzi and none were to be found, but that's not to say that there weren't some people who recognized us in the late-night shopping crowd. I was absolutely giddy when someone asked if they could post the picture they got with us on tumblr, and told them to tag it with "Nell And Ben Shopping Bonanza" so I could reblog it - I had just created a side blog where I could publicly be Nell Fraiser, and I was going to keep my other blog anonymous, though I was definitely lightening up on the fangirl front.

Eventually we headed back to his place and started cooking. He was surprisingly not a terrible cook, and I had forgotten how much fun it was to cook with someone else. Shay and I had been so busy, we never got to anymore. While the pie was cooking we turned on the news and laid down on the bed, my head in his lap while he stroked my now unbraided hair.

"Hey, Ben?" I said, rather quietly.

"Hmm?"

I bit my lip, trying to phrase the question. I had been thinking for hours on it, but the words just couldn't be put together in a way that didn't sound like babbling. "What's going on? With you and me?"

He took some time to respond, and I mentally kicked myself, wondering if I had insulted him or made it awkward. "If you're asking if we're dating, no. We aren't. But we might. I hate rushing, I don't want to get into a public relationship because things are good now, and then in a week we decide that it was a dumb idea. Consider it pre-dating."

That soothed me a bit. I both wanted to and didn't want to date him. He was charming and funny, but at the same time this was so surreal. A year ago I didn't even know who I was, and now I was trying to figure out who we were and it wasn't good for me. I wasn't comfortable enough with him to enter into a relationship, and thinking it out was a far smarter idea as I grew older and realized that hurried relationships rarely lasted. On the other side of the same coin, however, I didn't want to wait fifteen years to get married and lose out on the chance to have kids, so the entire idea of relationships was too complex and fragile to wrap my mind around.

"I'm still gonna kiss you." I said matter-of-factly. He laughed and said I could. He let me spend the night after our pie had been devoured and we were both sleepy and full.

When I woke up, Ben was snoring gently against my shoulder. His hair was so messy and frazzled and his long arms were draped heavily around me. I needed to pee so there was no option but to wiggle away from his body and off the bed, waking him in the process. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and rolled onto his back with a yawn.

"You move a lot in your sleep. Pretty sure you kicked me like twelve times last night." He said groggily, his voice low and extremely sexy.

"Well you are like a damn radiator. I only kicked you because I was trying to turn down the temperature."

"So, are you calling me hot?"

I rolled my eyes and padded into the bathroom, ignoring the terrible grin plastered on his face. My eyes were killing me from my contacts, so I just took them out and threw them away. I had several more pairs, and I could go a couple hours with bad vision since Ben was going to drive me back to my hotel. I came back out after combing my hair with my fingers and making sure I didn't look like complete crap, and Ben handed me a cup of coffee.

"Thanks." I said, taking it and warming my hands up. He kept the room so cold I thought I was going to shiver to death last night until he got in bed with me. We drank our coffee while watching some early morning drama, which he complained about the entire time, but I suspected he didn't mind it as much as he pretended. I sent out a couple texts to Shay, very lightly hinting that I stayed with Ben last night and at her suggestive reply, I reminded her that as much as I wanted to "climb that like a tree" I also wasn't into rushing relationships. I was on the first branch and felt perfectly fine with my slow and careful ascent.

Before Ben took me back to my hotel, he gave me a very sweet, almost chaste kiss that left me wanting to keep kissing all day, but reminded me that until and IF we decided to begin a relationship for real, our affections needed to remain behind closed doors. It protected both of us, because you never knew who was lurking around the corner with a DSLR. I let him know that I understood.

"However," He said, hand on the door knob. "Just so you know, you did stay the night with me and despite nothing actually happening, the magazines love to feature women leaving men's houses and hotels. They call it the Walk of Shame."

"I know about that incredibly sexist and invasive bullshit." I said with a growl. "But whatever, I'm not ashamed. I wouldn't be ashamed regardless of what we did last night, it's my life and I can live it how I please."

He tapped me on the nose. "Good girl."

I hated the online gossip that hit a couple hours later.


	6. All The Grey Areas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little light, a little dark, a little sexy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter, but I'm going through some stuff and some things. I appreciate the kudos and the reads. If you have any suggestions, please leave them in the comments!

In terms of auditions, the one for In This Day and Age went absolutely perfect. Though it had been revealed by my loudmouth agent that I wasn't the first choice to play Betty, the twenty-something, newly-married, Christ driven woman who took on a child and a storm of abuse at once, I was a good second choice when their 50's hopeful fell through and they went for plan "B". After the audition I went back to my hotel to spend the day under the blankets with the television on, but I got the phone call just as I was getting into the hotel lobby.

"Exceptional" and "emotive" were the words they used to describe my performance and when they gave me a tentative quote on payment I had to hold onto the concierge's desk to avoid falling down as I squeaked out a "yes, of course I'll take it." Ben was going to be so proud. I shot him a text immediately after the call ended and I could stand on my feet again.

"So I didn't get gross points, but I did get 8 upfront. And that's pretty fucking good." 

Eight million.

Four plus four times a million.

Two to the power of three times ten to the power of six.

Square root of holy mother of God.

I sat down in the lobby floor and called Shay and squeaked out what had happened. She had just gotten home from teaching and was having a difficult time understanding me while I panted out what I just been told, but eventually she understood.

"That's literally twice what you made for Matchmaker."

"I am very aware, I am the one with a masters in math." Shay laughed on the other end and I nearly went limp as her voice calmed me down. Being away from her, after being inseparable for nine years, was hell. Benedict and Hollywood or not, she was my best friend. "So, I'll be home tomorrow. And we can apparently celebrate an eight million dollar payday."

"So, we're baking cookies?"

"Hell yes."

By the time I got off the phone with Shay, Ben had text me back a congratulatory message, but apologized that he could not come celebrate as he had matters to attend to. I knew he was a busy man, but that didn't lessen the disappointment. I was leaving tomorrow morning and he would be off filming or doing interviews or spending time with his family and friends back in England the next time I got a break.

I thought about that the next day as I boarded my flight, sending one last text before I had to shut off my phone.

"Keep in touch, Ben. Don't know when our schedules will allow another meeting."

I didn't wait for a response, just shut it off and settled in to head home.

When I got home, frazzled and annoyed at having to take a cab instead of the subway just to avoid cameras and harassment, I threw my luggage into my bedroom and then collapsed onto Shay's bed on my face.

"Take it things are getting a bit glum?" Shay said, giving me a reassuring pat on the back. I nodded to the best of my ability. "Tell momma' 'bout it."

"I want camera's banned, first of all. Those little shits, I swear to god." I started off, turning to my side do I could speak. "But to be honest, I can't really tell you why I'm upset. It's dumb for me to be sad over Ben, and I know it's dumb, but the thing is, I AM dumb."

"You sure as hell are, Nell. If you haven't realized that it's okay to be sad for things you shouldn't be sad about, then yeah you're dumb. But that's okay, I love you anyway."

I grinned like a fool like she always made me do. "It's still a stupid reason to be upset."

"Why, because you live so far apart?"

"That, and the whole problem where we are never going to not have scheduling conflicts."

"It will work out, Nell." Shay tousled my hair gently and rolled off the bed. "As lazy as you are, you have always found a way to get what you wanted, and if he likes you as much as I think he does then you've got double the manpower."

Before she left the room, I called out to her, "Oh, he called me a yankee."

Shay turned on her heel and stared at me for a long time. "How does that make you feel?"

I rolled over and squealed. She took that as a good sign and laughed; I have been calling her a yankee, in the American sense of the word, for the entire time I've known her as a joke, and she knew that I completely believed my heart that I belonged in the North. I had fond feelings for the South, true, but I was born to live above the Mason-Dixon. So, even though he meant a totally different meaning of the word, it made me grin like a fucking idiot.

Ben kept in touch. We e-mailed and texted regularly, I sent him a video of Shay and I making cookies in our wonderful home-sewn aprons (he was unsurprised that mine was Sherlock-themed), and he gave me a miniature tour of London through pictures once he got back home. When I went back to L.A. to film that minor role, I sent him the most ridiculous pictures possible of the cast and crew doing silly things, and I even convinced him to make a Skype account just so I could talk to him for a few minutes before he headed to bed one night, but I couldn't convince him to keep it up. We had become addicted to pictures, spending time together through the magic of our cell phone cameras, even though we almost never sent images of ourselves to each other. If we wanted to see the other's face, there was a plethora of images on the internet.

On the non-Ben related side of my life, my career was escalating more and more. I was so uncomfortable with the idea that I was actually rich that it took Shay begging and a really tough sit down with my bank account to realize that I actually didn't need to sew up the hole in my jeans or wear tennis shoes every day. I had always had a sense of style, but I had never been able to afford what I wanted, so I dressed basically. T-shirts and blue jeans were not my passion but it's what dominated my closet until Shay pushed me, very literally, into Saks Fifth to actually buy things instead of window shopping.

After that, tabloids took notice of me far more. I was no longer "Georgia Peach, out of place on Sunset" to the gossip columns, and the most recent style blog article on me that I had seen called me "Queen Of Change, Princess of Chic." Though I laughed, I suppose it was an apt description. I didn't have a "style," I had all of them. Grunge, boho, preppy... I cycled through fashion ideologies daily, sometimes Jackie'O and sometimes Marilyn Manson. I did, however, come to have an addiction for hats and curled hair.

My first real photoshoot came not long after I got the part for In This Day and Age, and I was featured in a spread in a very popular magazine wearing Givenchy as I talked fame and fortune and coming into my own. After I left there, however, I felt so guilty that I cried to Shay about how I was a bad person for spending so much on myself when there were people sleeping on the street not far from our front door. She calmed me down enough that I could think rationally, and I ended up making a donation to the local shelter. I didn't want that published in the tabloids, but it was there. And then I got criticized for 'making a show' of doing something charitable, and that made me feel worse.

Even Ben could tell how stressed I had become about life in the fast lane. He tried to keep out of it mostly, but he asked me loads if I was okay and that if I needed anything he was there to talk. I couldn't really tell him that he just wasn't close enough to me for me to really tell him everything that I was feeling about absolutely everything. So I just thanked him and said I was fine, then either went on about my day or talked to Shay about it.

She was very understanding, but I know she worried for me. So, when she eventually asked me to consider seeing a therapist, I did. I researched my options for therapists in the area, and eventually found one I thought would do well for me, and set an appointment. Though I tried to ignore it, the fact that a gossip column then published a photo of me entering the building with the headline "Mental Problems For Nell?" and speculations on what was "wrong" with me got to me, so I ended up making a public statement in the relatively controlled environment of my blog.

_To my readers and fans and critics, it has come to my attention that speculations have surfaced on why I have decided to seek the advice of a professional on the matters of my mental wellbeing. I can absolutely assure you that there is nothing "wrong" with me, nor is there anything "wrong" with anyone who seeks help. Humans are imperfect beings and our minds can only take so much pressure. That level of pressure varies from person to person, and that is okay, we can't all be strong enough to endure everything life throws at us._

_That is where my therapy comes in. I am not used to being in a spotlight, regardless of how small and dim it may be in comparison to the likes of other, more seasoned celebrities -- in fact, applying the word celebrity to my own status is a point of great anxiety for me at the current moment. I come from a small background and now I am in the presence of giants. I am unsure of my footing on Mount Olympus and I feel guilty for climbing it when there are others far more capable than me who should be scaling it but cannot. I have received criticism and praise and neutral gossip, and while you are free to speak your mind about anyone you choose, we must consider what we were taught in kindergarten; our words and actions and thoughts have consequences for us and for everyone involved. I am not broken, I am not in pieces, I am simply in a sort of pain that I have no experience dealing with. Thus, I have made the decision to find someone who can help me understand and manage this pain._

_I love my job and I have no intentions of stopping. I love my fans, I love the community of actors and directors and producers and everyone who works with me along the way. I even have a fondness for the critics who help me expand my understanding of myself and my actions. I just need help adjusting to this way of life and deciding how I can combat the emotions I am struggling with. Please be patient with me, because I have to be patient with myself on this journey._

_I want to lend a hand of support to all of those who deal with challenges in their lives. Whether it's the occasional episode of depression or chronic mental hurt, whether it's schizophrenia or the trauma of abuse, whether it's seriously affecting your life or only a passing thought, you have my support and understanding._

_To those of you wishing to criticize me or anyone else for seeking out help to better our lives, I can only hope that you can come to the same understanding of pain I have. I hope that you can see the flooding torment that some brave souls wade through every day, and I hope that you can see it without having to experience it first hand._

_Respectfully,_

_Nell Fraiser_  

I felt so much better after posting that that I went out for light drinks with Shay and a couple of our friends from before the fame. Critics be damned, getting it off my chest was beyond helpful.

And it was true, I loved my job more than I hated the consequences. I turned 29 in late June, and then in early July production began for In This Day and Age. We were shooting in rural Indiana, where the producer had close family who agreed to let us push them from their historically restored home for the duration of filming, which would be about two and a half months. It was strange filming in a technically occupied house, but it fit very well. The house was open enough to allow the crews room to work, fit the time period, and it saved us all a lot of trouble and time.

I was having such a fun time on set and with the cast that I barely remembered to check my text messages one day in the first week of filming. I had a message from Ben, so I opened it as fast as my fingers could tap the screen.

"In L.A., almost finished with my work here. Still have a week before I need to be across the pond. Can I drop by?"

I responded with an absolute yes and jokingly threatened to kick him if he wasn't here asap. I was giddy for the rest of the day and giggled my way through like a thousand takes. Being on set was wonderful, but Ben coming by was going to be the most marvelous thing.

I didn't receive a text back from him, so I expected him to drop by in a couple days. So I was surprised when, at 4am and several hours before filming was going to start, I got a loud rapping on my trailer door. With a hiss, I pushed my glasses onto my face and heaved myself out of the bed and to the door. I was expecting someone on the crew or cast, but I suddenly had a travel bag thrust into my arms by a grinning but tired Benedict Cumberbatch.

"The fuck are you doing here so early?" I groaned, pulling him into the trailer by his shirt, wanting to get him inside so I could go back to bed for another couple hours. I was not happy to be woken up, even by Ben.

"It's not like I was going to wait for your invitation to come, I already had the flight booked when I sent the text." He explained, looking around the trailer. "Christ, they're taking care of you, aren't they?"

I shrugged, though if I were awake I would be proudly showing all the neat shit in the trailer. I absolutely thought trailers were just a running joke, that they were probably all tiny and hideous and looked like they were from the 70's. Nope. This fucking trailer was the size of the trailers semi-trucks pulled, and expanded like a camper. It had hardwood floors and marble countertops and the softest bed I have ever slept in in my life. It was infinitely more lovely than any hotel I had ever stayed in. I put his bag on the couch and then pulled him by the wrist back to the bedroom. "C'mon. Sleep."

I'm not sure what happened just then, but suddenly he pulled his wrist from my hand and whipped me around. He pulled me tight against him, his lips dangerously close to mine. "What, no kiss? I think I was threatened with that the last time we spent the night together."

I grinned and threaded my fingers into his hair, which was back to auburn, to my infinite approval. My lips traced over his, not kissing and not letting him kiss. Then, with a dramatic sigh, I pulled away and pushed him from me with a devious little smirk. "I'm not your booty call, Ben."

"What?" He laughed, clearly a bit shocked. He let go of me all the same and watched as I crawled back under the blankets. "I just wanted a kiss."

"Oh please." I put my glasses on the night stand and patted on the bed beside me. "I know you, Cumberbatch."

He rolled his eyes, but stripped out of his shirt and came to get in bed with me. I turned off the light and cuddled up to him, my head resting on his chest and his arm draped around me. "So, is that a no?"

I looked up to him for a second, one eyebrow cocked. Before answering, I leaned up and gave him his kiss, finally, pressing my lips to his gently but passionately. When I pulled away, I just grinned and shrugged. "Depends on whether or not you can find the right buttons."

Ben grinned and ran his tongue along his lips, tasting where mine had just been. "Is that a challenge?"

"Absolutely."

My buttons definitely got pushed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How do you all feel about a little bit of smut in later chapters? Yes? No?  
> Please leave me your ideas.


	7. Lovebirds on Set

I didn't get anymore sleep, thanks to Ben. After we finished, we laid in bed and I couldn't stop giggling as he kissed me all over. Eventually that evolved into hiccups and I had to stumble out to get a drink. I hadn't bothered to put clothes on, considering he had not only seen me naked but had been in me for a considerable length of time, and when I came back I rolled my eyes when I caught him staring.

"Pretty sure you've seen your fair share of naked women, you pervert." I took another long drink of water and then set the glass on the night stand with my glasses.

"Yes," He replied slowly, sitting up. "But not so many that had secret tattoos."

"It's not really a secret!" I huffed, crawling back into bed and laying on my tummy. He lightly traced the tattoo on my hip.

"Is it a Fibonacci spiral?" He asked, then groaned and laid back down when I nodded. "You are the biggest... geek on the face of the planet."

I cuddled into him and stuck my tongue out. "You enjoy it. You like my asymptotes, and lying tangent to my curves."

"Can't argue with that."

Though I willed myself to sleep, it just wasn't going to happen, especially since by the time I gave up, my alarm clock was showing that it was nearly 7. I had to be in the hair and make-up trailer at 7:30, so I sighed and heaved myself out of bed and away from Ben's warm body.

"Time to get to work. Are you going to come with and watch?"

"Of course." He said, throwing the blankets off of himself once I began dressing. Since I was going to have to be professionally made-up, I didn't do anything but put in my contacts and dress in an old t-shirt and jeans. He dug around in his bag to get his clothes and we jokingly pushed each other around in the bathroom trying to brush our teeth at the same time. I wished we were normal people, just for a day, and could sit in and turn off our phones and watch television and go to the beach without cameras following us. But a couple minutes of goofing off in a trailer was lovely, all the same.

In hair and makeup, I was pushed into a chair and fussed over - "Nell please cut your hair, you have so much of it it's hard to do anything with!" and "If you don't stop sleeping in your make-up I'm going to throttle you." It wasn't as glamorous as movies made it seem, it wasn't pampering. It was pulled hair and getting mascara dangerously close to your eyeball and having no control over it. The cameras could pick up every flaw, so my face had to be completely caked in makeup to hide every pore and bump. When it was over, and before I headed to get dressed, Ben pulled me to the side.

"It would be a little more difficult as an American, but have you considered about maybe coming to the UK to work some?" He asked, very quietly as people buzzed about around us. "We're a little more relaxed on the way people look. You don't have to be perfectly poreless unless that is your character."

I smiled at his concern, but shook my head. "I would love to work overseas, absolutely. But I think America needs a little bit of a revolution, and I'm just the ginger for it." He grinned at me, apparently having to fight to keep from touching or kissing me, lest he bother my make-up and hair.

Once I was securely in my dress for filming, a script in my hand for review, and my heels broken in, I was taken to the set. Ben was allowed to watch, of course, but from the back or sometimes from another room. We were doing a scene today that was closer to the beginning of the movie, before the abuse was revealed. I played the perfect wife and my on-screen husband, a tall, lank man with jet black hair, played the loving husband as we were welcoming our niece awkwardly into our home. The three of us rehearsed some of the more ambiguous lines quickly, asked 'should-I-do-it-This-way-or-This-way' to each other and the director, and then finally got in place for filming to begin.

Even during takes that we find are perfect, where we don't mess up, we often have to redo it just so we have alternates, or different camera angles, or sometimes just because the director wants us to. But then again, there are rarely takes where I'm completely pleased with the outcome.

During this scene, however, I had to kiss my 'husband' during what superficially looked like a tender moment in a loving marriage, but represented something darker when you looked back through it a second time. After about the fourth take, break was called. It was about lunch, so I was thankful. I was detangling myself from some wires that I had accidentally stepped in, to the chagrin for the tech guys, when a tall, familiar gentleman stooped down to help.

"How was I?" I asked Ben, pulling my foot free from the mess very delicately so that I didn't unplug something important.

He stood up once I was away from the wires and grinned. "Excellent. They chose the right woman for this movie. Come with me." Then he took my wrist quite discreetly and pulled me away, out the back door of the house and into the open air. It was warm, feeling like summer already, but the sky was threatening rain as gray clouds rolled over our heads. The backyard was privately fenced, so we had a bit of privacy away from the people out on the street who were fighting for a chance to get a picture of big names, especially once they found out that Benedict was visiting me. There was really no way to deny that there was something going on between us now that that cat was out of the bag.

"What is it, Ben?" I asked once he stopped leading and turned back to me.

He looked like he was trying to find his words, but finally they came to him. "I think I might have gotten a little jealous in there, watching you kiss your costar," he started, and shushed me before I could interrupt. "I know it's on screen, but I think I want to see if you'd be willing to exclusively kiss me off screen."

I tried to bit back my grin, but it was a useless attempt and my smile spread across my face. Of course I couldn't just say yes, I had to go the long way around. "You little shit, you're gonna show me your Benedick and your Cumberbutt last night - very eagerly, might I add - then come ask me if I want to be in a relationship? God, you're so ridiculous. Jealous? Really?" He looked a bit hurt, not understanding. Instead of explaining, I just pulled him by his shirt collar and kissed him, throwing my arms about his neck. Lipstick be damned, I needed a touch-up anyway. When I pulled away from him, I rested my forehead against his and ran my fingers through his hair.

"Of course," came my verbal answer, finally. Happy as a clam, he wrapped his arms tight about my waist and kissed me again, not caring that his lips were going to be stained red.

"Do you enjoy scaring me, Nell?" He joked, once we could breathe again.

"It's a southern thing, I think. Come on, we've got an hour and a half for lunch. There's a café I want to go to." I went to go get changed back into my normal clothes, which only took a second, and then we left the property.

"Do you have a rental?"

"Nope." I said, but flashed him a set of keys. "Bought my own. I'm so sick of flying." I took him to my car out on the street and I was just... so proud of myself for some reason. This was, truthfully, my first car. I had had a car a long time ago, passed down to me from my aunt when she passed away, but this was the first one I had bought myself. It wasn't spectacular, it wasn't a Maybach or a Rolls. It was nice, a black Audi sedan. It claimed itself luxury, all the same.

We got in and I did the same maneuvering that Ben had that time months ago after we went out to eat; I flashed my lights to make sure they knew I was about to leave, then let off the brake until I was certain they were all completely out of the way. It was getting easier, I thought. Yes, some of them were complete and utter assholes, but for a large portion of them this was just their job. It was absolutely annoying, it was invasive, and it was stressful, but a lot of the ones who 'followed' me from place to place had learned that I wasn't about to scream at them, and that if they phrased their questions a certain way, I was more likely to give them a response. Still, the assholes ruined it for them.

The café was just a few minutes away, very charming for the rural setting. We ordered a coffee and a sandwich each, then sat down in a corner, trying to not be recognized by the few patrons there.

"So, this whole dating thing," I said, taking a sip of my coffee. "It's real? Like this is an actual thing that's going to happen?"

He raised a brow at me. "Yes. At least I assume so, since you said yes when I asked you if you wanted to make it a 'thing.'" He grinned wide then took my hand very gently.

"Just gotta make sure I'm not getting Punk'd." I fought a smile, unable to look him in the eyes. Instead I looked at his hand, his fingers entwined with mine. Christ, nothing had ever felt so right as his skin did. "Of course I'm a bit concerned, what with you living in London and me living in New York. We're never going to see each other."

"It will work out, I believe. You and I are both not so busy that it can't happen. I'm filming more in America than I was before, so at least we'll be in the same country. And on the chance it doesn't work out, we gave it our best and there is nothing to be ashamed of."

"True. And my home is always open to you, Ben."

"As is mine. Speaking of which, I would really love for you to visit, I know you haven't been to London. You like travelling, correct?"

"Oh, god yes." I finally looked up to his face, pushing my hair out of my eyes. "I just hate the flying, but I can handle it to travel somewhere."

"Wonderful." He gave my hand a squeeze. "We need to get our schedules talked out a bit, see when we might be able to work it in."

We worked it out as best we could - sometimes things came up like photoshoots and interviews and other job related things, and we couldn't account for everything. We would have a few overlapping days in LA in two months, and a couple peppered days where he could stay a night with me in New York before heading to London or LA. Finally, we found a two week gap in October where he wasn't filming and had yet to schedule anything out of London, and I was also off. We decided then that unless something extraordinary came up, we would put that down in our calendars for me to visit.

It was going to be strained, but we were both very optimistic about it.

When we left the café, the paparazzi was there, and they did not miss the fact that we were holding hands. The gossip columns tonight were going to fucking rock.

We finished filming for the day at five, considering that the technical main character was played by a 12 year old child actor, and labor laws prevented her from working more than 9 hours, including her hour and a half lunch. Ben and I sat outside in the backyard for a while, watching crew move things through the window in accordance with what scenes we were going to be attempting to shoot tomorrow. There was a lovely little garden back there, with blooming flowers and a tall, green tree, and a nice wooden bench we sat down on. For the most part we were glad to have a sit and be quiet together, but eventually he broke the quiet.

"What do you want out of life, Nell?"

I looked at him with a brow raised. "That is the most cliché question, Ben. I can't believe it came out of your mouth." When he looked a bit insulted, I grinned and patted him on the thigh. "I want to know what I want. I don't know that, yet, and so it's hard for me to figure out what I can do to make my life better. I think I know some things I want, but who knows."

"Well, what sort of things do you think you think you want?" He snickered.

"Successful career. Nice home. Experiences." I started, looking up at the darkening clouds above us. "Lots and lots of bad puns. Kids - uh, one day, not today, thanks. And a shoe closet the size of my apartment."

He ruffled my hair, which he had wanted to do all day. "You're ridiculous."

"What do you want?"

He sighed heavily as he thought, his arm sneaking around my waist and pulling me to him. "To ride my motorbike until I'm 95 years old. More skydiving. To stop playing all these fucking intellectual, distant characters. Spending more time with my parents. Kids. I'm still a bit upset that I haven't had kids yet."

"You don't need to rush into it. You're a man, you've got time." I leaned my head on him, despite being uncomfortable. I didn't want to have the kid talk yet - maybe in two years or ten. I was saved, however, as the bottom fell out of the clouds and the rain began to pour. I squealed and Ben laughed, and we jumped off the bench and ran through the gate in the fence and all the way to my trailer. Before we got out of the rain, however, he grabbed my arm and pulled me to him. We were already both soaked to the bone.

"I've always wanted to try this," He said, arms around my waist to keep me tight against his body. His head dipped down, and his lips pressed to mine, wet and warm and passionate. I pulled him deeper into my lips, one arm around his neck and the other hand twisted into his dripping hair.

Sadly, we broke the kiss eventually, just standing in the rain. I was dazed and breathless and shivering, though not because of my wet skin and clothes. Finally, we broke into giggles, and dashed into the trailer to get dried. I thought to myself as we changed clothes, that if he promised to keep kissing me like that, I could definitely consider having his ginger spawn one day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave suggestions and comments below! I really appreciate them!


	8. In a Galaxy Far, Far away...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You wanted smut, you got it.
> 
> This chapter was hard for me to write, I sort of ran out of ideas... Please, if you have suggestions or things you want to see, please leave them below. :)

Once Ben and I were sufficiently dried off and warmed up, we settled in on the couch together. I had put my hair up, still wet, and my contacts were replaced by my glasses. He had dried his hair, but I preferred not to use heat on my hair too often, especially since during filming I was always either having my hair curled or straightened or fussed over. I had yet to be required to dye my hair for a role, but I knew that day was coming and the idea made me whimper.

Ben was lounging very casually on the sofa with the newspaper I had had brought over earlier this morning, and I laid across with my legs in his lap as I sent out a tweet or two, plus a text to Shay.

"So, he asked me out."

"Jesus Christ, finally." was her immediate response, and I grinned as I took an incognito picture of him declaring absolute war on a headline he disagreed with. I tucked my phone away into my pocket and then stared at him intently until he looked back.

"Why, exactly, are you staring at me like that?" He said, giving me some serious side-eye.

"Your hair is red."

"Auburn."

"It's fucking red."

He sighed and rolled his eyes. "Yes. This is my natural color. Surely you know this?"

"Of course I do." I said, inwardly offended that he thought that I might not know the hair color of the Cumberbumber. "I like it best red. You should have more roles as a ginger."

"It's auburn!"

I snorted loudly, then rolled up and came to straddle his lap, putting my fingers in his hair. He didn't quite know what to do with his hands, so he just rested them on my hips. "See, when it's 'auburn', it looks really good messy, especially if you've got the sideburns going. On the other hand," with that, I pushed his hair back and kissed his forehead. "It always, always, looks good slicked back."

My lips were close to his, teasing him, but I pretty much had him by the hair and wouldn't let him kiss me. "I was under the impression," He spoke low, gravelly, his fingers digging lightly into my hips. "That the fans preferred me with the Sherlock-esque curls."

"I'm clearly not an average fan." I said, pulling away from him to his chagrin. I grinned at the realization that he was, in fact, willing to let me tease him like that. "Most fans, I assume, don't get into your pants."

"It is to be debated who got into the pants of whom."

"No it's not. I have been declared by righteous authority to be the victor." At that, he grinned but didn't argue. I was about to lean in for a kiss, when my cell phone started ringing. With a groan, I rolled off his lap and pulled out my phone, checking the number twice before answering.

"Hey, flower. What's up?"

"Check twitter." Shay responded, sounding almost out of breath.

"What? Why?"

"Just. Do. It."

"Alright, putting you on speaker." I said, tapping the screen and setting the phone down. I pulled my laptop off of the chair on the other side of the lounge area and pulled up twitter. "What exactly am I -- Oh my god."

"You fucking see it?"

"Oh, what, the current trends in the US?" I was astounded. My name and Benedict's name were both currently two of the top hottest topics in the twitterverse. "I guess the Cumbercollective found out, huh?"

"Yup."

Ben reached over and turned the laptop a bit so he could see. "Well, cat's out of the bag, huh?"

"Oh. Hi, Ben." Shay apparently didn't expect Ben to be in the room.

"Hello, Shay. How are you?" Ben grinned a bit, apparently not as phased as I was about the whole ordeal.

"Just peachy, Ben. How are you?"

"Fine. Are you going to come to London in October with Nell?" When he asked that, my heart melted a little bit. I hadn't brought up the whole Can-I-Bring-Shay thing, but he just assumed I was bringing my best friend along. And apparently, that didn't bother him.

"Oh, I'd love to. But I have to see if I can get off of work, schools in at that point. Nell, look at some of these tweets, they're great." I think Shay was about to explode in pure excitement. These things amused her beyond reason -- and me, of course. I clicked through and read some of them out loud.

"I can't believe #BenedictCumberbatch is dating @NellJMFraiser! She's just a dumb American!"  
"@NellJMFraiser is soooo lucky..."  
"I wonder if @NellJMFraiser has seen the Benedick yet?" asshole stole my pun.  
"Thank GOD, I didn't think #BenedictCumberbatch was EVER going to get married!"

"It wasn't a proposal!" Ben spat out, trying to contain some of his laughter. Shay was unabashedly howling over the phone.

"Sorry, Ben, the twitterverse has pronounced us Man and Wife. I hope I'm the man." Once Shay had calmed down, I asked, "Who published that we were dating?"

"Who else? Apparently Perez even has photojunkies out at your location in Bumfuck, Indiana. It's spreading to other sources, now. Though, it's not like everyone else hadn't speculated. You two were attached at the hip after the premiere." That was true, I thought with a nod. "But really if you're going to try to date incognito, don't do it with the most popular English actor ever."

"I don't think I'm act--"

"Yes you are." Shay and I said it in near perfect unison while I continued scrolling through the pages and pages of tweets. "Oh my God, Shay, did you see the gingersnap one?"

"Yes! I favorited it, it was hi-lar-i-ous." Ben then asked to see it but I just pushed him away so he couldn't. I didn't need him to see that someone referred to "potential Cumberbabies" as "gingersnaps."

"But wow, some of these girls are absolutely furious that Ben is dating someone." I was a bit in shock at some of the vulgarities being thrown my way. As part of the Collective myself, I had thought most of us were pretty well behaved.

"No, they're mad because Benedict is dating you and not them. Big difference." Shay corrected me, and I just had to shrug. It was probably true. Shay and I finished up the conversation and the three of us said our goodbyes and ended the call. I gave a sigh and a shake of my head before hopping off the couch and walking over to the little kitchen area. I opened the cabinets until I found what I was looking for, my favorite bottle of whiskey.

"Want to celebrate?" His sly grin told me yes, so I brought the bottle and two tumblers over to the table and poured a bit for each of us.

"All we need now is a fire and a couple of good books." He said as I sat down beside him.

"Sorry, pretty sure the only book I have with me is a copy of a math book." He rolled his eyes.

"Geek." The accompanying smile was enough to have thrown me off my game a few months ago, but it just made me shake my head and elbow him playfully.

"By the way, Ben," I said, trying not to look like I was up to anything. "It's suggested that you don't drink a lot around me."

"Oh?" He pulled on a lock of his hair and leaned on the arm of the couch. "Why is that?"

It was extremely hard these past few hours not to just scream and bug him all day about the subject on my mind. "Because, I know you've seen the script for Sherlock."

"And you also know that I'm not going to tell you anything about it. You will find everything out when it airs."

"I don't care if I have to abandon a movie, I will be coming to England to watch it. I will not stand for a delay or American censorship." He flicked me in the nose.

"Of course you will. And you are invited to Mark's screening party, at that. I'll make sure he kno--"

"As in Mark Gatiss?" I think my heart skipped a beat and I nearly spilled my drink. "You're kidding!"

I think my excitement put him off balance a bit. "No, completely serious. We just finished the first bout of filming for Star Wars, we'll do another month and a half starting next month. Then it's back to filming for Sherlock just after you leave in October, and it will premiere hopefully in late February, at which point I would love for you to come to the party."

I almost jumped him - almost - but instead, I just sat very still and very straight and finished my drink. Then I poured another very stiffly, but didn't pick it up, hands clasped under my chin as I attempted to calm myself. Finally he laughed and pulled me back into a hug.

"I will take that as a yes."

"More like a 'holy shit is that even a question?'" I wrapped my arms around his middle and buried myself into him, trying not to scream. I wasn't about to ask who would be there, because if he said a couple keywords (namely, Martin, Amanda, or Louise) I was going to have to be restrained in order to keep from attacking him in my excitement. So, I forced myself to change the subject. "I've been so rude, Ben, how has filming been going for Star Wars? And are you not doing it all at once?"

"No, we're doing it in two main pieces, one of which we just finished, and then a third filming where we will just be make sure we have every piece of footage we need. It's been wonderful, absolutely. This was a huge dream of mine for so long, and J.J. is a great guy." I looked up to him, and the smile on his face was just so bright and completely happy. It felt very warm.

"I'm so glad you're enjoying it. I've still got to watch the first movies before Episode 7 comes out."

"Oh! Yes, I forgot. You haven't seen them, have you?" When I shook my head, he let go of me and pulled my laptop over to him. "Guess what we're going to be doing?"

"Oh, uh, hard to guess. Watching porn?"

He looked at me funny, apparently not understanding the joke. "No, no, Star Wars. Episode 3, A New Hope."

To be honest, I thought it was funny how easily he was able to find a good website to stream the movie from. I figured he would either be more technologically challenged or completely opposed to watching movies without purchasing them, but apparently he was neither. We found a good stream, and then got ourselves comfortable on the couch, tangled up in each other's warmth. I was laying partially over him, my body between his legs and my head resting on his stomach as we started the movie.

I cannot count the number of times he shushed me. I made remarks throughout watching and at one point he paused it, and threatened to leave if I didn't be quiet. So, I shut up. It didn't last long however, before I was giggling into his stomach and making fun of the stormtroopers. He took my remarks lightly, and his chastising was all in good fun. At one point he worked my hair out of the bun I had it in so that he could run his hands through my hair, but he learned quickly that if he did that for long enough I would start to fall asleep.

When the movie was over, he stretched his long, lank body out beneath me, then loosened his muscles as he wrapped his arms around me, credits still rolling on the screen. "Well, how did you like it?"

I didn't even try to bite back the geekiest grin ever. "I loved it, I'm so upset I didn't watch it before! And you know, I'm actually really, really shocked. I thought that I was going to groan at the special effects, but they were actually not bad at all for the age of the movie."

"Agreed," Ben said, his palm traveling up and down my back. "I wasn't even a year old when this movie came out, hard to believe." I snorted and tried to turn away from him.

"Ben, honey... I wasn't even a thought in the back of my mother's mind when this movie was released. Even my brother Matt wasn't born until three years after this movie was made."

He seemed to think about that, a bit of realization seeping into him as he took in a deep breath. "Yeah, you're about eight years younger than me, I keep forgetting. So Matt is, what? 34? How old is your other brother?"

"Gary is 31. Feeling old yet?" I poked his ribs to tease him and he grabbed my hands to restrain me.

"Nope, I'm the right age, you're just too young."

"Pedophile." I joked, trying to pull my hands away from him. When I couldn't, I resorted to biting his side lightly, making him jump and release me. I pushed myself up and crawled over him until I was straddling his hips, hands on his chest. "You dirty old man."

"You're the one on top of me." He grinned, his fingertips traveling from my thighs to my hips. Just to tease him, I pressed myself down into him as I leaned forward and kissed him. I relished the feel of his lips on mine, the taste of his tongue. When I pulled away, his grin only grew bigger. "It's been less than twenty four hours, Nell. Good grief."

"No time limit when it comes to me, Mr. Cumberbatch." I kissed down from his lips to his neck, nipping at the tensed muscle at his throat. I pulled back and sat up. "If you don't mind, that is."

He sat up and rolled me over, switching places with me. Now he was over me, balanced on one elbow as his other hand stroked my cheek. "Mind? I encourage it." His voice was low, dark against my skin as he came down and licked at my collarbone. I threaded my fingers through his hair, unable to do much else with his body pressing over me. Ben's free hand came under my shirt and lifted it away from my body, forcing me up to allow him to remove it. While his body was away from mine, I took the time to unbutton his shirt quickly and awkwardly, before he had the chance to tell me no. His skin felt marvelous against mine.

Ben fumbled with my bra, but when it was off his hands were on me, rough and needy but not ungentle. His mouth replaced his hands, my coos and purrs encouraging him. Eventually, I pushed him away and up to his knees, attacking the top button on his jeans and whimpering as he refused me, coming back over me and working away my own jeans and panties, leaving me bare before him.

He whispered in my ear, fingers taunting me as I struggled against him playfully, telling me all sorts of despicable things he wanted to do to me. It served only to make me pant beneath him and curse at him as his fingers delved inside of me. It was unfair that I was being teased so much, naked under his gaze, where he was still mostly clothed. When I had had enough, not ready for release yet, I squirmed away from him and put him back in his place beneath me.

He held his breath as my lips and tongue trailed over his chest and stomach, my hands pulling his clothes from his body with a great deal of effort. Now on an equal playing field, I made sure he got equal treatment, plus a little extra for the tricks his mouth played on me this morning. Ben choked out a groan as my hands and mouth took him. It took a bit of exploration, but I found the spots he liked best, the places that made him twitch at a little extra pressure. I cut it short, however, not done with him yet.

I made him lay still as I left to get a condom from the bedroom, returning to the absolutely enticing sight of his hands on himself. I took over that job again, pausing only for a second to roll the condom over him.

"Nell," He hissed out, my name a beg against his lips, tugging on my arm firmly. I grinned, pleased that he needed me, if only for right now. I crawled over him, sinking down and satisfying both of our desires at once. My movements were slow and deliberate, circling and grinding and lifting until I found the right combination. His hands were on my hips, assisting me in my endeavors. When I purred out his name, he responded by pressing his hips up to mine and filling me deeper and rougher than I had bargained for. After that, I made sure his name didn't leave my lips until he pulled me down to his own, fingers gripping my hair and his tongue exploring my mouth like I had explored him. He jerked himself upwards into me, his groans deep in his throat and chest.

As we settled down, breathing heavy and bodies exhausted, I curled up next to him on the couch, peppering him with kisses. He grinned and stroked my hair, and, strangely, thanked me.

"You're welcome, I think." I said as he wrapped an arm around me, keeping us both warm as the air conditioning kicked on.

"No," He muttered, somewhat sleepily. "Not for the sex. Just for you. Thank you."

I wiggled against him, trying to hide my blush. "Silly Ben... Let's get to bed, you've worn me out."


	9. Day At The Museum

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your support! Please leave comments and suggestions at the end!

Over the next couple of days, Ben and I spent a lot of time together outside of my filming. We ended up cooking together a lot, just simple things but it was fun. He taught me some different recipes, and I taught him how to burn water, so it was an equal trade-off, I think. We found ourselves exploring each other, and not just physically.

I learned a lot about his parents, who he absolutely loved and cherished more than anything else in the world. He told me more about the carjacking in South Africa, and by the end of it I was clinging to him and feeling scared, myself. I made him promise to take me for a ride on his motorbike one day when I came to England, despite the fact that I was already an avid fan of riding and had been on motorcycles since I was about ten.

When my big brother Gary called me while I was in the middle of dinner, I introduced Ben to him over the phone. It was quite amusing, because both of them have accents that the other couldn't understand much, so I translated in between giggles. They seemed to take to each other fairly well, despite the accent barrier. Gary was just a big redneck, but he was a sweet guy who wanted to get along with everyone. I liked to think of him as a teddy bear in camouflage overalls. That led into a discussion about my family, and he eventually wrapped his arms around me and told me he wanted to meet them as soon as we had time.

Of course, we did spend plenty of time discovering each other's body, with lips and hands and tongues alike. We were very conscious about the safety of our endeavors, very well versed in the rules of consent, and very, very interested in pleasing each other. It was a relief when he was the one to bring up the sex talk, in which we both eagerly agreed to getting STD tested and do what we could as far as birth control went. Responsible sex is the sexiest sex, we concluded, just before getting responsible.

I got so used to having him around me that when he left, I felt like my bed was empty and my trailer was too quiet. I knew that we just weren't going to have a lot of time together, especially not for a few months, so I was going to have to get over it. But just because you know something, doesn't mean your heart can really let you stop wishing it was different.

Thankfully, the internet and cell phones made it easier. I forced him to use Skype more often, just so I could hear and see him in real-time. Whenever he was at his home in London, he would sometimes video call me when he was just waking up for a run, right before my bedtime, and I would have to swallow my heart when I caught sight of his bedhead as he wrapped himself up in his robe. He made me giddy as a schoolgirl, but I don't think he knew just how much he excited me. Skype was how I 'celebrated' his birthday with him, before he went off to spend the day with family.

We wrapped up filming slightly ahead of schedule, pressed for time by the child-actor's mother who wanted her to start school on time and not have to play catch up. So, by late August I was boarding the plane home to sleep in my own bed, which ended up still feeling empty. On the bright side, Ben was coming in a few days from London before he went off to film the second half of Star Wars. We hadn't thought I would be done in time for him to come over, but we arranged it easily to have another day together.

Until then, Shay and I spent time together, which we hadn't been able to do much as of late. School was going to be back in session for Shay soon, and I had a bunch of smaller things to attend to in and out of The City. I was mentally exhausted, and Shay was always willing to lounge about with me like the bums we were. We had decided that we were definitely going to make Ben bake cookies with us, so I immediately began sewing a silly apron for him to match ours, ruffles included.

"We should bake gingersnaps." Shay suggested while we waited for Ben's cab, sprawled out on the couch while I sat in the floor sewing. I nearly stabbed myself with the needle.

"Oh my god, no, Shay. Bad." I threw a pillow at her and she giggled and threw it back, right in my face.

"Cumbercookies?"

"Fuck you, Shay. I swear to god." I was trying to pretend to be offended, but it was hard when I was laughing so hard.

"Look, all I'm saying," She began, trying to continue a conversation she had joked about yesterday. "If you get married, I expect to have some God-kids that I can call the Fraiserbatches."

"If we got married, big fucking if there, Shay, our last name won't be Fraiserbatch."

"Okay, since you are technically Montgomery-Fraiser, how about Cumbergomeries?"

I was laughing so hard I couldn't breathe and my stomach was hurting. So, when my phone dinged on the table, she got to it first while I was incapable of doing anything but sitting doubled over.

"Benedict Cumbergomery is here!" She shouted, making a dash off the couch and to the door and leaving me laying on the floor in tears.

"Keep your damn mouth shut, Shay!" I called after her, scrambling to my feet and putting away the sewing carefully so I didn't mess up my stitching or get the threads tangled. I slipped on some shoes at the door then ran down the stairs after her, taking them two at a time until I nearly ran into her at the bottom. Ben had embraced her, having to bend down to hug my very short roommate. He let go of her and met my eyes, an eyebrow cocked.

"What? Not going to give me a hug?" He said after a momentary stare-down. I rolled my eyes and skipped down the last couple steps to him, throwing my arms about his neck and giving him a kiss on the cheek. I heard Shay give an "awww" so I kicked her in the shin playfully.

"Come on, I'm sure you've had one hell of a flight." I said when I let go of him finally, and he grabbed his suitcase and headed up the stairs behind us. When we reached the door I heard him scoff.

"Are you two twelve years old?" He asked, referring to our construction paper names and the cupcakes taped to the door.

"Yes, collectively. With you on board, we're almost legal." Shay answered in classic smartass fashion.

"Do I need to separate you two?" I groaned as I opened the door.

"No, mommy," Shay quipped, walking in past me. Benedict grinned and pulled his suitcase in with him before I shut the door. I watched him take in the surroundings and gave myself a mental pat on the back for keeping up with Shay's ridiculous standard of cleanliness, and for the entire place just being so us, even if it was nerdy.

"I just have one question," He started, looking between Shay and me. "I've been here thirty seconds and I've seen five pairs of elbow-length rubber gloves. What sort of weird rubber fetish do you two have?"

Shay snorted and turned away so I was left to explain as he bent down to pet one of the cats, Skittles. "We're both sort of allergic to a bunch of chemicals in cleaning agents. So we have to wear gloves to clean any hard surfaces."

"Why don't you just get something that doesn't contain the chemicals you're allergic to?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, what I'm allergic to, she's not allergic to. And what she's allergic to, I'm not allergic to. There's nothing that satisfies both of our allergies." I gave a shrug and picked up a pair of my pink gloves. "So, to make it fair, we just get cleaner that we're both allergic to."

"Like we said before, we share everything. Suffering included," Shay chimed in finally. Ben just grinned and gave me a pat on the shoulder. I think he might ship us and that is a strange, scary thought, though it has happened before. Shay and I even have our own tumblr tag, called "Shell," where people get a bit overzealous with their conviction that we are in a lesbian relationship. We both have a habit of making anonymous posts in there, just because we think it's kind of cute, until we get to the fanart.

"Alright, come on Khan. This way to the love dungeon," I joked, eliciting a playful gagging noise from Shay. Ben followed me down the short hallway to my bedroom, where he set down his bed and started being nosey immediately, picking up one of the vintage dolls on the shelf above my desk. "Curiosity killed the cat, Ben."

"Do you collect these?" He was gentle as he set it back down on the shelf, then looked at the next in the row.

"Yeah," I was a bit embarrassed, to be honest. I felt like I needed to impress him, still. "I buy, restore, and sell. I keep the ones I really like for myself." I wasn't about to tell him about the closet in my craft room that was filled with Barbies and similar 'toys.' I might be a bit weird.

"These are actually kind of cool. How old are they?"

I pointed to one on the end, a china doll with a heavily yellowed dress. "She's my oldest, I've had her dated to about 1850, and we know that she's German. But other than that, it's nearly impossible to tell anything about her." I pointed to another. "She is the youngest, she's an original Blythe."

"Oh, don't they still make these? The big headed ones?"

"They got so popular with collectors that a bunch of companies started to recreate them. But the originals were only made in 1972. So, she's my rarest." After a moment of him silently staring at the dolls on my wall, I couldn't help but grin. "They creep you out, don't they."

"Yep." He took a deep breath in, then gave me an apologetic sigh. "Somehow, the older the doll the more fucking terrifying they are."

I took him by the arm and led him away from the shelf. "Don't worry, Shay doesn't like them either. They need to go up, anyway, Skittles nearly knocked them over last week." Ben gave me a kiss on the top of my head. "Also, don't know if you would want to, but Shay has been dying to go to the Museum of Natural History. She's been bugging me all week to go, but I wanted to see if you wanted to."

"Oh, god, yeah. I'd love to go, that sounds wonderful. But do you mind it I get in a shower first? The flight was fucking awful."

I grinned, knowing that feeling all too well by now. I leaned up and kissed him on the cheek, then pointed to where the bathroom was. "There's towels in the closet by the tub. Don't use the soap in the green dish, that's Shay's."

He gave me a wide grin. "Not going to join me?"

"Ew, why would I do that?" I said, looking disgusted. "Pervert." He chuckled as I started to walk off to leave him to his business, but then he grabbed my arm gently.

"Just one question, since I'm such a pervert," He said, looking a bit devious. "Do you have any of those corsets you made?"

"Benedict!" I squeaked out, my face red but plastered with a smile. "Behave yourself, and you might find out!" I pulled away from him before he could say anything else and left, trying not to giggle. I found Shay in the living room, laying on the floor with the cats, so I got down on my stomach beside her and snatched Lyles away, peppering him with kisses.

"Where's Ben?" Shay asked eventually.

"About to shower. He wants to be clean before we head to the museum." I watched for her reaction, and it was immediate. She launched herself onto my back, looking something like a frog when she did.

"We're going to the museum? For real?" She gasped out, hugging me around the neck and blocking off my air. I wheezed out a "yes" and she squealed and rolled off of me onto her back. "You promise?"

"On the honor of double fudge cookies, Shay, I promise we're going to the museum." I got confirmation of her excitement by way of another loud squeal, which I laughed at. Shay was such a nerd.

"Go tell your boyfriend to hurry up, I want to see the dioramas!"

I elbowed her and told her to be patient, that Ben had to cleanse himself of the evil's of flight, and we giggled for a bit while the cats purred and rubbed against us. The water in the shower cut on, so Shay and I took our time goofing about and making something to eat real quick, which involved me flicking pieces of food at her and getting hit in the chest with a wooden spoon in return. Once Ben was out, dressed, and ready to go, I thought Shay was going to do backflips in excitement. We headed out and, for whatever reason, there were next to no paparazzi on our way to the museum, which I was thankful for. There were a couple of times where the three of us caught the camera-wielding loon out the corner of our eye, but they neither bothered us nor approached us particularly closely.

Once our admissions were paid and we were inside the Museum, Shay pretty much took the lead. She knew exactly where she was going, and we took the same path every time we came. I knew that we would be back some time next month after the butterfly conservatory opened up. Inside the Theodore Roosevelt Rotunda, she prattled on about the former president as if we were her students, and didn't stop until I put a hand over her mouth and reminded her about the African Mammals dioramas just ahead of us.

We talked about lots of the dioramas, with Ben adding in his experiences with the animals he had seen when he had been in Africa. I fawned over the cheetahs, and Shay liked the hyenas, but we all loved the elephants in the middle of the room, standing great and tall above us like giants. We left the hall on the third floor, and we got Shay's least favorite part over; the reptiles. Of course I liked this exhibit, so I just let Shay bury her head in my arm while I walked around, but I made it quick. After that, we visited the rest of the exhibits on the floor, including the one on the birds of New York City, where I demonstrated my bird calls for Ben. Shay had heard them a thousand times before when I pestered the birds in the park.

We wound our way through the museum, Ben and I with our fingers entwined together as Shay led us through, giving us history lessons in the exhibits on the different peoples of the world. We went back down to the second floor after exploring the upper floors thoroughly. When we got to the first floor, it was my turn to get excited. Shay wouldn't let me run ahead of her planned path through the museum, so our very last stop was at my favorite exhibit, the Hall of Ocean Life.

The blue whale hanging from the ceiling caught my attention immediately, and I stared up with the biggest smile my face could handle, and the only thing that snapped me back to reality was Ben's arm slipping around my waist. The squids and the octopuses were my favorite animals, so I took over Shay's job of yapping on and on about trivia and boring facts. She got me back with a hand over my mouth, and we erupted into quiet giggles, Ben standing by and rolling his eyes as if we were children he was chaperoning.

Once I relented and we left the museum, we had wasted many hours and the sun was beginning to set, a chill hanging in the air for the first time this year. On our way to a hip little coffee shop, we were stopped and both Ben and I posed for a picture and signed the notebook of a flustered fan. Shay and I got ourselves calm again once we had a latte in us and the excitement of the museum died down, and then we headed back to the apartment. Ben pretty much hadn't let go of my hand or my waist the entire trip, and I was feeling warm and well loved with his touch and my best friend's smile.

"You girls are a handful, you know that?" Ben said, once we were inside the apartment and ambushed by cats.

"That's our motto, actually." Shay said, before opening the pantry door and burying herself in it.

Ben took her distraction as a chance to give me a sweet kiss, which he had been dying to do for several hours judging by the fervor with which he pressed his lips to mine. I stifled a giggle and an urge to take him back to my bedroom to do terrible, naughty things with him, and instead led him over to the couch. We had only just sat down when Shay emerged from the pantry again, arms full of flour and sugar and other ingredients.

"Lazy asses, get up and get your aprons on. We're teaching you to make cookies the right way, Ben." She said with a massive smile.


	10. Uh-Oh Words

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, work and school got in the way. Hopefully the next chapter will be a nice treat for you all! Let me know what you would like to see in future chapters!
> 
> Also, trying to save up to see Ben in Hamlet in 2015! Are you going? Going to be in London? Let me know!

Ben was probably exhausted. He had mentioned that he struggled to sleep on flights, which I completely empathized with, knowing first hand how uncomfortable planes could be even on a good flight with good weather. Then he had allowed us to drag him around the Museum of Natural History for several hours, so when Shay demanded we make cookies, I just looked to him. And surprisingly, he hopped up from the couch and clapped his hands together.

"Great, I'm always in the mood to bake with friends." He said, taking some of the ingredients from Shay's arms and heading to the kitchen. I grinned, I grabbed the apron I had been making and snapped the stray thread off with my teeth.

"Not so fast, Cumbercookie." I said, throwing the balled up mess of fabric at his face. He had to adjust what he was holding to one arm so he could shake it out, and after a brief moment of confusion at the apron he grinned. "Our house, our rules. Apron on, bitch."

He immediately set down the flour and sugar on the coffee table and threw the apron on around his neck and tied the cords behind his back. "This is fucking fantastic." Oh, and was it ever. While Shay's apron was Teen Wolf inspired with dark grays and the show logo embroidered on, and mine was Sherlock blue with the big yellow smilie face, his was not fandom inspired. It was fruit inspired. There were giant quilted lemons all over it, paired with wonderful strawberries, a sequined pomegranate, and happy grape vines. The background was watermelon-red, and it was edged with green ruffles, as if it were the rind itself. It was longer than ours, to fit his tall frame, but overall it was hilariously more feminine than either of ours.

"You look wonderful, dear," I said with a grin and a kiss on his cheek, before picking up his dropped ingredients and heading to the kitchen.

"Oh, very, very wonderful. A bit fruity, but--"

"Shay!" I laughed, trying to ignore the slight pink tinge to Ben's cheeks. I waved him into the kitchen as Shay and I started methodically getting out spoons, bowls, measuring cups, and our handy-dandy cook book. It was an old, gray thing that had been splattered with oil and chocolate and everything else we could have had in our pantry and was significantly larger than the dictionary it sat beside on the bookshelf. We cracked it open to the most earmarked page, which was our handwritten recipe for what was titled "Perfect Chocolate Chip Cookies."

"Did you two write this entire thing?" Ben asked, leaning in to flip carefully through a few pages, holding onto the page we needed.

"Yup," Shay said, swatting his hand out of the way. "We've still got about twenty blank pages before we're going to have to start a new volume."

"Oh, speaking of which, I'm going to have to write down a new shepherd's pie recipe!" I squeaked cheerily. Shay rolled her eyes.

"Is it veg?"

"Tofu."

"You have an addiction to shepherd's pie, you know?" Shay said, elbowing me in the side. It was true, I loved it.

"Why," Ben started, coming over to my side and playing with a wooden spoon. "Are you a vegetarian, Shay? Not to be rude, just curious."

Shay shrugged and carefully tore open the bag of flour. "I just don't like the taste of meat, or the texture. Nell, however, is a carnivore. A gentle T-Rex who whimpers when she see's hamburgers, but has kindly agreed to stop eating meat at home." She had secretly covered her hand in flour, and then gave me a pat on the back, leaving a dusty handprint on my shirt. I glared at her jokingly, but refrained from starting a flour war - this time, at least.

"Well, isn't that sweet of her." He said, and somehow I ended up with more flour on me as he snuck some into his palm and then patted me on the head. I made a loud noise, somewhere between a yell and a groan, but it ended with a giggle as I tried to shake it out of my hair.

"I don't want to go white-haired just yet, dammit!" I said, walking away from the counter to dust myself off. When I turned back, Ben had taken my place and was pouring himself over the recipe, calling out ingredients and measurements to himself while Shay emptied flour into a mixing bowl.

"Hand me the sugar, Ben." Shay called out, interrupting his cookie chant. I tried to give him a playful push out of the way, but he ignored it, pretending he didn't even feel me trying to elbow my way back to the counter.

"Lovely to cook with you, Shay. So glad we didn't invite Nell to the cookie party." Ben said, making an inconspicuous motion to block me with his elbow and hip. I stifled a howl of giggles as I gave it another attempt.

"Oh, yeah, she's so lame. Cooking with her is the worst, she always gets the butter too melty." Shay said, and they began to coordinate efforts to keep me away from the counter and pretend I wasn't there. So, I did the next best thing I could think of. I wrapped my arms around Ben's neck and pulled him back, almost making him fall, but he kept his balance just enough for me to tug him back as he choked out his laughter behind wheezes. Then when I got him away, I let go and darted to the counter, just barely making it before he had me about the waist and picked me up.

"Not so fast, Nell!" He said between our joint laughter. Shay had stopped measuring sugar and turned to watch, rolling her eyes with a hand on her hip and a grin on her lips. I squealed for him to put me down, and he eventually laughed so hard he lost his grip on me and I landed on my feet. So, that settled that, I was back in my place. Ben had space beside me, within distance to help, and we just moved things around when needed so he could participate despite my urge to just take everything from him and mix it up quickly. When the batter was done, moist and gooey and full of chocolate, Shay and I did something all too common for us to do. We pushed the bowls and ingredients away, and then leaned onto our elbows, thinking. When Ben tried to ask us what we were doing, I held up a hand and shushed him.

"Alright, Shay," I said with a sigh, staring intently at the bowl of cookie dough. "Pros of continuing to bake?"

Shay began to list off the same things we always said on the matter of batter. "Warm cookies from the oven. Cookies and milk. Picnic in the park. Cons?"

"Wait time. Homemade cookie dough ice cream. We might burn the cookies." I said, and Shay and I became lost in thinking. Ben tried to interrupt again to I shushed him again before Shay and I came to a decision.

"75-25?" She asked, an eyebrow raised at me.

"Definitely!" I said with a grin, and pulled a plastic container from the cabinet. Ben gave a noise of understanding as we separated a quarter of the dough into the container and stashed it into the fridge for consumption later.

"Do you do that every time?" Ben asked, looking at bit worried for our mental health.

"Yes, absolutely. It is a very serious matter." I said, completely meaning it. He grinned and just put an arm around each of us.

"You two are quite a pair." He said.

"Oh my god," Shay said, sounding horrified at her sudden realization. "You're a Shell shipper."

"A what?" Ben said, a bit surprised.

"A Shell Shipper. You are, I know it. You think Nell and I have a relationship." Shay clarified.

"That's ridiculous. Nell and I are dating." Ben defended himself, but Shay and I knew better.

"Oh, please, Ben. Everyone ships us," I said with a roll of my eyes as I shrugged off his arm. "Hell, we ship ourselves at this point. We're fucking adorable." When Ben didn't know what to say, Shay and I just laughed. "Platonically, Ben. We don't intend on making out. We just completely understand why people think we do - or should."

Ben raised his eyebrows and sighed. "I think you two need to be separated, it's for your own good."

"Never." Shay said, before grabbing my arm and linking hers with mine. "Now, let's bake some cookies."

While the cookies were in the oven, Ben and I headed outside to the street to have a cigarette. It was dark out, and where we lived wasn't in a particularly busy area, but just the same we ducked around the corner to a little alcove and lit up. I hopped up on top of a trash can and crossed my ankles, Ben leaned against the wall beside me. From the way he was standing, shifting from one foot to the other, I was pretty sure something was bothering him.

"What's wrong, Ben? You look uncomfortable." I said after a minute of watching him in silence. His face twisted up and his nostrils flared as he tried to figure out his wording. Apparently it eventually came to him.

"Are you adopting?" He said, rather bluntly, given the time it took to ask.

"Oh," I guess he had seen the pamphlets and packets laying on the mantle in the living room. I had been looking into adoption for the past couple years, to be honest. Shay and I both loved kids, and had been talking about platonically raising children together for almost as long as we had been living together. The only reason it hadn't been done yet was because of bias against single-parents, same sex parents, and platonic co-parenting, all of which Shay and I could have been categorized as. Even with a celebrity status, it was a difficult process. "It was being considered. For a while now." He gave an extended nod, lost in his own little world. Now I was uncomfortable. "Is that unacceptable to you?"

"No, no, of course not," he defended immediately, though not looking at me, trying to avoid eye contact. He was lying. "That's your decision to make."

"But..." I urged him to tell the truth.

"But," he sighed, looking to me with an expression I couldn't place. "I want to be with you, and if you adopt, I am worried to get attached to your child and this not work out. I will do everything I can to not let that affect us, but it's a concern for me."

"Understandable--" I began, but before I could finish what I was going to say, he interrupted.

"And I am also hopeful... that it will work out, and if you wait on it, we can have our own."

Now I was very uncomfortable. "Ben, I don't know if I'm ready for the baby talk."

"I'm not really, either." He said shortly, and brushed my hand with his fingertips, delicately as if he was unsure if he was allowed to touch me at all. "We don't have to now, but I do want to talk about it eventually. I take this seriously, what we have. I don't date just for fun, I am looking for someone who I can spend my life with. Before I got into this with you, I asked myself, 'could I maybe see myself having children with this person?' and it's not a definite yes, but it's a strong possibility that I might want to down the road. I don't want to drive a wedge between us, but you need to know that I want kids, that's what I'm looking for in addition to a partner."

I responded by taking his hand, letting the silence fill up around us. I could feel his nervousness, that he thought that maybe I wasn't looking for the same things, and it made me angry at myself. "I'm not playing around, Ben. I'm beyond the age of games and bullshit; I want the same things that you do. But it always seems that as soon as I have these conversations with someone, it makes things strained and the relationship goes downhill. I don't want that to happen to us."

"Good." He came to me, flicking away his cigarette. He back of his fingers dusted across my cheek, and in the darkness I was just barely able to make out the wonderful shade of his eyes and the softness with which he looked at me. "I want this to work out, Nell. I want to be with you. I love you."

At the first utterance of those three words, my heart was in my chest and throat and gut and fingers and toes all at once. I felt every one of my emotions turn white-hot as my brain went through them in a rapid cycle of 'I don't know what to do.' I wanted to kiss him and push him away, to commit to him and break up at once. My breath caught and my shoulders drooped, but despite all of my brain's confusion, my heart absolutely knew what it wanted to do and completely took control as my response fell from my lips in a cracking, emotional voice.

"I love you, too."

Where other kisses had been passionate, or silly, or lusty, or sleepy, the one we shared then was the first heartfelt kiss we shared. I drank in the texture of his mouth and felt our energies collide. It was pure. His lips were my religion for that moment, and I was very pious. The hand on my waist felt like it was boiling my skin through my clothes and we smelled like cigarettes and sugar and butter. The noise of the city drowned away into a gurgling of watery life. I was dizzy when it ended.

We rested our foreheads together for a time, but I don't know if either of us were capable of actually processing thought or if we were just existing for a couple minutes, barely breathing as waves of fuzzy thought rushed back into our skulls. When I was able to think again, I just wrapped my arms around him and smiled.

"I mean it. But you're not getting me pregnant at this time."

He laughed gently and helped me off the trash can and back on my feet, giving me a little-more-than-friendly dust off on my rear end. "No, not now. We've got time to think on that."

On our way back up to the apartment, I stopped him. "Oh, and don't mention that to Shay. She has convinced herself that we need to give our children the last name 'Fraiserbatch.'"

He scoffed, but for a reason I wasn't prepared for. "Shay has been thinking of us having children, but you haven't. Typical." My face turned as red as my hair, and he just grinned and pushed me up the stairs playfully.

Back in the apartment, Shay was just removing the cookies from the oven. I whimpered when she wouldn't let me take one, and scolded me for being impatient. So, instead, I collapsed on the couch, face down in childish protest. Shay came and sat down on my back, not letting me move.

"Dammit, Shay, get off! I can't breathe!" I laughed, squirming. She just situated herself more firmly on my back while Ben watched and suddenly I wondered why I was dating someone who clearly wasn't going to help me when I was being attacked by a tiny lawyer.

"You know the rule." Shay said, crossing her legs on top of me. I turned my head in time to see Ben sitting down in the chair opposite, with no intentions of assisting.

"What's the rule?" He asked, picking up a lesson plan Shay had been working on.

"Don't act like a li'l bitch, basically." Shay said, and started pulling my hair into a braid, forcing my face down again. I decided to just let her finish with a huff, and as soon as she tied it with the hairband on her wrist she hopped off of me. I sat up and tugged my hair slightly.

"It's lopsided."

"No, your head is lopsided, my braid is fine."

I rolled my eyes and went over to Ben, sitting on the arm of the chair with my legs in his lap. He squinted at me.

"Yeah, your head is a bit lopsided isn't it?"

I slapped him in the arm and crossed mine over my chest, pretending to be upset. He just grinned and pulled me into his lap. "Oh, you two need to stop teasing me today! I'll cry!" I gave a fake sniffle and he kissed my cheek.

"There, there, turtledove. I'll behave myself." But Shay gave a defiant shake of her head, refusing to act like a grown-up. So I did the mature thing and stuck my tongue out at her, squealing when a pillow was thrown at us.

When the cookies were cool enough to eat but still warm enough to savor, I had to watch Ben just stare at his before asking what sort of witchcraft we used to make them. Shay and I agreed that we were actually definitely witches, and we graduated from the Salem school and we were planning using him as a sacrifice for a very dark ritual. After we fattened him up, of course.

Then, we settled in to watch the fifth episode of Star Wars, hooking my laptop up to the television. Ben and I, for whatever reason, stayed snuggled together on the chair while Shay sprawled out on the couch. Halfway through, the gentle snores near my ear signaled that Ben's exhaustion finally got to him, so I gave him a kiss to wake him. We said goodnight to Shay, who barely acknowledged us during a pivotal scene, and we headed to bed. Our sleeping arrangement was an odd one, since he was a back sleeper and I liked to sleep on my stomach (Which would be a curse, were I to ever actually get pregnant), but eventually we made it work, my head on his shoulder and my leg tucked under his. We were too tired to do anything but set the alarms and give each other a goodnight kiss before drifting off.

Ben's flight wasn't until the afternoon, but I had to be on nearly the other side of the city at 8am for a photoshoot and interview for Vanity Fair. I turned off the alarm as soon as possible, but it woke Ben up anyway. He wrapped his arms around me sleepily, groaning that I should stay in bed with him "just ten more minutes." So I did, cuddling up to him until he fell back asleep. Then I quietly got out of bed, got dressed, and left, making sure to feed the cats and change the litter beforehand.

I had thought that I would be back in time to take Ben to the airport. But that "just ten more minutes" with Ben had made me later than intended, and they had been so frustrated at my tardiness that they took their sweet time getting around to hair, make-up, and dress for the photoshoot. Then, when it was over, the interviewer and I got so involved in our conversation that we spent an hour joking about everything from a film I was rumored to be auditioning for to my relationship with Ben, and by the time I realized what time it was, there was no way I could make it back to the apartment to escort Ben to the airport. He had probably already left.

Disappointed but not upset, I sent him and Shay a text apologizing for being late. I told Shay I was on my way back to the apartment, and I told Ben I would see him soon (because I would, of course, be going to that audition we had joked about while he would be wrapping up Star wars filming).

To my surprise, Shay sent me a selfie of her and Ben at the airport together, both making ridiculous faces at me. The message along with it said, "Stole your boyfriend, headed to Guam." I texted her back that she could keep him, since Sherlock had been delayed again.

There was a man knocking on our door back at the apartment.

“Hi, can I help you?” I seemed to have surprised him, as he jumped.

“I’m looking for-- oh, Yeah, uh. Well, no mistaking that face.” He grinned like a nervous kid, then handed me a vase filled with flowers of every shade of pastels I could have imagined, completely overflowing the vase as lovely green leaves dripped out elegantly. My heart melted and I just stood there holding it for a minute, grinning sheepishly, before I snapped back and tipped the kind delivery boy and thanked him with the autograph he requested. I headed inside and found a place for it on the dining room table, turning it several times before I settled on the “right” side, and just sat and admired it.

I finally noticed the card sticking out, and plucked it out.

Your hair is red,  
Your eyes are blue.  
This isn’t a poem,  
I just think you’re cute.

I squealed and buried my face in my hands, blushing all alone in the dining room. Eventually, I sent him a message on skype, which he would probably get before a text.

“You romantic asshole. I’m going to kiss the hell out of you when I see you.”

The text back was just,   
“I love you.”


	11. A Study In Shay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My name is Shay Pasternak, and I'm THIS many!
> 
> Guest Chapter By Blue_Jay (http://archiveofourown.org/users/Blue_Jay/)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh, guest chapter for the win. Blue_Jay and I confused the sweet fuck out of each other for two days straight over this.

It’s hot for a late September day, above seventy-five at least, though I’m too lazy to check my phone, and the flannel of my button down sticks to my body in every unflattering place it can find. My birthday is something of a tradition magnet for reasons unknown, and the plaid is one of them. For both of us. And Nell looks awesome in plaid. 

“Twenty-five dollars a bag,” my best friend says in disbelief as we walk out into the orchard. “That’s two whole dollars more than it was last year!”

Even though money is no issue for us at all, twenty-five for an empty bag is pretty ridiculous. When we first started going ten years ago, it was eight dollars and when I really little and went with my family, it was three. Recession-induced inflation’s a bitch. 

But, on the other hand, she is a movie star. Twenty-five won’t kill her. “Looks like we’ll just have to pick the whole orchard in retaliation, then,” I answer, and loop my arm through her elbow. “Then we’ll have even more desserts to bring to the break the fast tomorrow.” Yom Kippur, for obvious reasons, isn’t my favorite holiday because, well, what Jewish person does have it has their favorite holiday, but my mom’s an A+ cook and I drag Nell every year with a million baked goods, so it’s all right. Better than I was a kid anyway and she actually tried to have us fast (fact: Avi and I consistently cheated) and made us go to morning services. The only remotely okay thing to come out of it was missing school. 

We walk in the direction of the Granny Smith lane, as it’s the first one and also my favorite, though it’s her least. “Not everything apple made,” she says, and puts the bag down so we can start picking at the first tree. “And we’re labelling all the apple products clearly this year. If I have to watch Avi go through another allergic reaction -”

“It’s just hives,” I say, exasperated, because it’s not like my brother is like the two of us and allergic to the world. He’s just allergic to half the world. “Besides, one slip up isn’t terrible. Can’t be considered any worse than the time he made me fall out of that tree.”

Nell, acting the part of an evil bitch, actually laughs, and I scowl in return. “To be fair, he did catch you.”

“Oh, yes, my brother. Every girl’s knight in shining armor.” 

She’s still smiling when she points out, “What else are brothers good for?”

Absolutely nothing, that’s what. Avi is two years and seven months older than me and I had a childhood of “boys’” anime, sports I wasn’t good at, and running around the woods barefoot until I found about my arachnid allergy because of him. Oh god, the number of times the bastard almost got me killed are only slightly more than the number of times Nell almost got me killed but hey, best friend privileges beat out brother privileges when it comes to stuff like that. A good example of Nell almost getting me killed is our first attempt cooking s’mores over the stove in college when we almost lit the stove on fire. A good example for Avi is the time we went to the state park in town and decided it would be an amazing idea to jump off the top of a waterfall without checking to see how deep the water below was. Being short basically saved my life. 

Also there was that other time on my twentieth birthday when he called my name and I fell out of an apple tree, but according to Nell the fact that he caught me makes everything okay. 

“Which movie are we seeing tonight?” I ask because right across the street from the farm and slightly diagonal is a drive-in theater that closes the week after my birthday. “I picked last year.”

This year we’re torn between Lucy, with the lovely Scarlett Johansson kicking ass by being brilliant and also having short blonde hair, which is in its last weekend, and Maze Runner, which is in its first. “Haven’t decided yet,” my best friend answers, and yanks hard at a particularly stubborn apple. “Can we move to Golden Delicious?”

“Save some room for Macintosh,” I say, and slip through two rows of trees to reach our destination. “We need it for pie.”

“Are we making apple muffins?”

“Duh, of course.” And we’ll use pretty cupcake wrappers to bind the bottoms instead of plain ones, possibly with flowers or maybe apples on them too because otherwise it’s perfectly wasted potential of additional decorative capacity. Nell and I are seriously into additional decorative capacity, something that probably came out of being born to two family with not much money to own things like yellow tea kettles and chachkas and pretty lace curtains of purely aesthetic value because really, they don’t work all that well. In college we did something similar, but mostly everything was handmaid. 

Falling out of the tree years ago never made me afraid of heights, and I’m quick to climb one where I see the perfect apple at the top. “I want to go strawberry picking here in April,” I call down as I pull it off. “It’s been a while.”

She’s looking up at me with a seriously worried expression on her face, even though I’ve done this a bajillion times and the UN and my university courses can survive without me anyway, and I hope she sees my eye roll. “Yeah, because we hate mud.”

Mud, of course, is disgusting, but I grew up on the top if a mountain in north Jersey; I’m okay with it. And she’s from the south, so she absolutely is too. I say, “We should get a cherry half pie to eat during the movie,” because I really hate popcorn. 

“Fine by me.” I loop our elbows together again when I get back down, and we each hold a handle of the twenty-five dollar bag with one hand. So far it’s a quarter full and we’ve only hit two lanes. I pluck another off a tree while we walk with my free hand, dust it clean on my shirt, and take a bite. “Any good?”

Holding it out to her, I answer, “Fucking awesome,” and she hums in agreement when she takes a bite. “I’m totally convincing Avi to come up next year. He’s missed too many years in a row.”

Nell grins and takes an apple of her own. “That’s because he’s a loser who moved too far away,” she says. “At least he’s coming up to your mom’s tomorrow.”

The thing about my brother and my birthday is that he started this tradition when I was a freshman in college and, as much as he tries to deny it, doing this wasn’t for my sake at all. He was twenty, I was eighteen, and Nell had just moved up so we could go to school together and she’s been hot for as long as I’ve known her. Avi’s the type of guy who can get in any girl’s pants within a week if he tries, and for me, romance has never really been a thing, but I’d just broken up with my high school boyfriend, and he tried to use it as an excuse to “make me feel better.” At the time, sweet, darling, southern bell Nell thought it was some nice older brother gesture, him doing something this fun for my birthday and all. He gave up about halfway through our apple picking palooza on trying to woo her affections and decided making it a competition with me instead would be more fun. 

Which it was, of course. And, actually, I’m not sure if Nell ever did figure out my brother was flirting with her for like a solid week just because he was a disgusting college student and wanted to fuck my best friend. 

“And Luka, he’s coming too, and isn’t allergic to apples.” Luka’s my brother’s three-year-old because eventually he did get his shit together and married Anastasia, the love of his life from high school, and Mom’s still holding out on me to have kids with Jewish names. Too bad getting married isn’t on my agenda. “Wifey can’t come. Flu.”

Nell scrunches up her nose. “Oh, wow, sucks to be her.” She likes Anastasia. I like Anastasia. Basically everyone does. She’s practically a Disney princess, who I may or may not have been jealous of as a teenger for having perfect skin instead of acne and being good at math. 

From Golden Delicious we duck into Macintosh, which are gross to just eat but taste best in baking things. “Still not as bad as being Ben. He has to miss apple picking all together.” Just because this tradition is ours doesn’t mean others can’t come along; it just means both of us need to be present. 

Actually, would Cumbercookie even like apple picking? That’s a very important question involving very important things, as I’m relatively sure these two are going to be in a relationship that survives more than a year. I feel like her mom with how proud I am about that. My little girl all grown up. 

“Oh my god, next time he’s in a summer release, we’re dragging him out to this drive-in, no question about it,” Nell says, excitement level suddenly upping by about ten. I’m pretty sure she’s a second grader in love sometimes. “And we’ll buy the tickets beforehand so he has no idea and tell him it’s for something else.”

“Okay, now that’s just despicable.” But hey, we’re despicable people who’ve made him wear a frilly fruit apron while we taught him to bake, so it’s not like this is a new revelation. “I want ice cream.”

Everything in the little farmers’ market thing is homemade (except the sodas, obviously), so almost everything tastes good. We’ve also bought furniture and seeds in years past here, too, and I’m really not sure why we pick Pennings Farm as our favorite place to go. Then again, it has an area where you can pet goats without it being a petting zoo. That in and of itself makes it great.

Nell says, “Then we’ll get you ice cream,” and goes about grabbing the biggest Macintosh she can find. “I, on the other hand, want a root beer float.”

I always hated floats. The way the soda melted the ice cream then turned flat is just a sin to both the soda and the ice cream, but hey, to each her own. “So that and cherry pie,” I say, “and tomorrow we’re making a bunch of desserts. Aren’t we just so healthy?”

“Look at it this way, Shay.” She waves her hand at me, still clutching an apple, and raises an eyebrow. “At least it’s all organic.” The apple crunches with a movie-perfect sound effect when she takes a bit and half the fun of doing this is just eating everything while still in the orchard. Nana was agast the year I was five and she came on a family trip here and saw me do this, but it’s not like any of us ever listened to her. 

Or, well, I used to, until she tried to tell me teleportation was an actual thing and if you fucked up, you could land in Bangkok with fingers for eyes and toes for ears. And that was before Harry Potter was published. 

“With the amount of sugar the pie’s going to take, I think organic doesn’t really matter,” I say, and disconnect us so I can climb another tree. It’s cooler up in the branches, even if heat does rise. Sometimes I feel like I spent most of my childhood up in trees, but that was over by the time I met Nell. I’d also stopped cheerleading, and sports, and dancing, and basically everything but studying and writing. Everyone says there’s a difference between a geek and nerd and I walk the fine line between the two. Somehow, I wasn’t the bottom of the social food chain in high school. 

Surprisingly, Nell puts down the bag and climbs up after me, though she spews a string of curses the entire way up. “I don’t get why you do this,” she tells me, settling on the branch right below. “Okay, anyway, I don’t think anyone’s going to complain about a sugar dose. Except maybe Avi for making Luka hyperactive, but he doesn’t matter. Also, we should see Lucy. Pretty girls beating up bad guys and Morgan Freeman sound like a great way to end a birthday.”

As I pull my phone from my pocket to take a selfie to send to my brother, I say, “Lucy sounds good. And we’re going to have like five people, one of which is a toddler. Uh, I think his opinion counts,” and manage to get both of us in the picture. “Okay, let’s see what he thinks of this.”

Avi’s earlier text reads, Happy birthday loser. Don’t fall out of a tree, followed by a conversation of the two of us trying to place the blame. We basically have the same conversation every year and I will stick to my stance that it was his fault until the day I die, even if Nell’s picked his side on this one. My own best friend, and she betrayed me. 

His reply comes almost instantly. I read off, “‘Just because your skills improved doesn’t mean you’ve won,’” and treacherous Nell laughs. “He’s such a dick.”

“You’re the one who decided to send the picture.”

“Yeah, well, I needed proof of my awesomeness.”

I put my phone away because one, I don’t want to risk dropping it and two, as much fun as text wars are, I have too many apples to pick to get into anything serious right now. “Sometimes I really wish we didn’t live in the City,” I say as I take another one, examining its redness from all angles and wondering if anyone has ever, in fact, found a worm in an apple or if that’s just a myth. “When I was teenager, all the characters in my stories used to live on farms or in rural-ish areas.”

Though we’re both sort of country bumpkins in our childhood roots, I never really grew out of mine. Nell, on the other hand, completely did. “It’s a nice getaway,” she agrees, “but I don’t think I could survive without the melodic sounds of twenty-four traffic. Can we get out of this tree now? The whole lower half of body is falling asleep.”

Oh, good point. Getting down’s hard when your legs aren’t working right and I’m supposed to be a professional with common sense. “Start going down first so we aren’t on the same branch,” I tell her because while this tree seems sturdy enough, I’ve known a fair share of kids who’ve broken bones from climbing. If it weren’t for Avi, I would’ve joined the ranks. “And go down like a ladder, no sliding. That’ll only -”

“Shay, honey,” Nell cuts in, and her southern accent comes on strong, “I know how to climb down a tree.”

That doesn’t even deserve an answer, really. She goes down first, me a step behind her, and the tree was on the taller end but not so enormously huge that it takes forever. The final hop down, though, is enough of drop that it jars at my feet and fuck being short. When I was younger, I thought it was a good thing to be short, but then I actually went into my field and found out a small stature isn’t good for first impressions. The UN is male dominated enough that feminism is a political platform in international politics and I’ve had more than one coworker ask me to fetch coffee, some of which I’m a higher position than. I’m not an out-of-the-park beauty like Nell and I’m not intimidating; I slip through the radar of smallness and that isn’t good. 

But then again, I have predominately my mom’s genes, so at least I know I’ll look about twenty-five until I’m fifty and that’s not something I’m complaining about. 

I dust the dirt off my hands on my shorts (pants are overrated until I’m thirty at least). “Okay, so we’ve got apple muffins and apple pie,” I say as I pick up the bag again. “We need a third thing so Avi can actual taste our delectable desserts.” 

“It’s Yom Kippur.” Nell, to save her pants, claps her hands, and dirt falls to the ground. “Make something Jewish.”

Like that helps narrow it down. Jewish food looks kind of gross most of the time, since it was mostly made of whatever they could get their hands on in the ghettos back in the olden days in Europe or whatever, but it usually tastes good. Or at least the vegetarian stuff, since I can’t really talk for the meat. And since I don’t want to expose my best friend to the yucky looking nature of my ethnicity’s food, I say, “How about rugelach?”

After as long a friendship as we’ve had, of course she knows what rugelach is; it’s a staple of the Pasternak household, after all. “I’m not complaining. Doubt Avi would either.”

“So it’s settled then?”

“Hell yeah.”

I smile. My last boyfriend only liked the Spanish food we made. Dad’s Puerto Rican and the ten years we had with him left us with a slew of really great recipes, but after he skipped town, we all took back my mom’s maiden name. Even at ten and twelve, my brother and I wanted it, and Mom was actually the reluctant one but hey, we haven’t talked to him since, so why keep Casales? Zero fucks given, even as a fifth grader, and that was the first time anyone (my nana) ever looked at me and said the words, “You should be a lawyer.” Eventually, in my freshman years of college, I finally went with what was apparently my destiny and added international as a plot twist no one saw coming. 

Nell and I spend a while wandering through the apple orchard, alternating between putting our pickings in the bag and dusting them off on our shirts to eat them. Here’s the thing about the two of us: we talk a lot and spend a lot of time chatting just for the sake of it, but we can also spend hours together in compatible silence. It’s one of the reasons she’s the person I’ve actually been able to live with. 

An hour in, when it’s starting to get near sunset and we’re in the Roman Whatever lane, Nell suddenly says, “Oh my god, Shay, you have to check out this text Ben just sent me.”

I pull down my final apple and drop it with the rest, not even sure that deserves an answer. “How many times do I have to tell you that you can just read it off?” I say, picking up the bag and preparing to leave. 

“No, really, this is only awesome if you see it.” If it’s a picture, she could’ve said it’s a picture. “Come on, Shay, don’t be so boring.”

Oh, Jesus - She’s secretly five, I swear (but if she’s five what does that make me, six?). “Fine, fine,” I answer, and hold out my hand to accept her phone. 

What I find myself looking at isn’t a picture, or a text message, or anything Ben related. It’s an email confirmation. 

“No.”

She grins.

“Yes.”

I throw my arms around her, hugging her tight and almost tripping over the apple bag, but that’s okay because she just got me two tickets to Ingrid Michaelson and oh god, I have the greatest best friend in the entire world. “I fucking love you, you know that?” I tell her, and Nell just laughs. 

“Happy birthday, Shay,” she says, and hugs me back just as tight.


	12. Bruised Up Secrets

During my Vanity Fair interview, we had joked and talked about the movie that I was auditioning for. It was a horror movie, one that I was extremely excited about being asked to audition for, especially since I had been asked for by name despite having pretty much only played in dramas thus far. I was finally someone's first choice and that was probably the best thing to happen to me since I was anyone's choice at all. So, when I headed to L.A. again, everyone already knew that I was auditioning for - and likely to get the part for - this movie. They also knew that I would be seeing Ben, who was still working on Star Wars.

What they didn't know, was that there was a top secret project I had been working on for the last couple months that was about to be solidified.

I am a Marvel Girl through and through. I love anything and everything Marvel, so it was a shock even to Shay when I agreed to work with DC Comics to play as Katherine Kane, A.K.A Batwoman. But how could I turn it down? I have wanted to be a superhero my entire life, and to add "lesbian," "socialite," and "redhead" to the mix was a dream come true, regardless of what publisher made her. Still, I wasn't surprised when Shay locked me out of her room for being a traitor. After we laughed it off, though, she was happy for me to get the part.

I had been hitting the gym every day for what seemed like forever already, and having to hide my slight transformation underneath clothes that just didn't fit right anymore. So, when I got off the plane in L.A., I avoided everyone I could in an attempt to be as secretive as possible and headed straight to the private gym I was going to be meeting my new coach at. He was less of a fitness coach, and more of a Superhero coach - and he was going to be teaching me, little by little, how to become Batwoman. It was going to be hard work, since my biggest action scene thus far was a simulated car crash set in the 1950's that got filmed in July. I had to learn how to fight on camera.

Fuck.

I was pleasantly surprised, however, when I was met by a gentleman who was not intimidatingly buff and young. I expected to see someone who looked like Vin Diesel, but instead I got a lithe, fit man in his late forties with the fullest mustache I had ever seen. However, he was definitely good at his job, and by the end of it all I was panting and had bruises scaling my arms, not because he beat me up but because I kept hitting my own goddamn self on the equipment. He clapped me on the shoulder, not even phased by the workout he had given me, and told me that, for someone as new to the entire thing as I was, I didn't do bad -- but also not good. I couldn't help but roll my eyes and text shay about it after throwing on a long sleeve shirt to hide my banana arms.

Next stop on today's Star tour was the film site for Star Wars, so that I could see Ben and pick up his hotel room key, because like fuck I was going to get a different hotel when I could just cuddle up to him for the few days I was here.

One problem: J.J. Abrams didn't want me on set.

"No, no, please," I said in exasperation when a security guard blocked my entrance. "I'm just here to see Ben - Jesus Christ I mean you know who I am, right?" Inwardly I winced. I had promised myself that I would never pull the 'But I'm Famous!' card on anyone, and here I was, trying to use the famous card to get on the set of Star Wars.

He just shook his head slowly. "Yes, I know who you are. But Mr. Abrams specifically asked me not to let you in, by name."

"Why the sugar glazed fuck would he do that?"

"He mentioned something about you being a loud mouth."

I groaned loudly. I wasn't about to get tackled by security for forcing my way in, not that I could. I was exhausted. But I had my suitcase, I was sweaty, and I wanted to get to the hotel room as soon as possible to get some rest and a hot bath before Ben came back. I at least wanted to smell nice when I seduced him tonight. Thus, I was reduced to begging for at least some sort of mercy. "Okay, if I can't go in there, can you? Let Ben know I need the hotel key for me."

The guard looked me up and down, trying to detect anything weird with the idea. I just held my hands up, as if that was supposed to prove me innocent. He radioed for another security officer, and I thought I was going to be escorted off the property. Instead, a sweet young man whose muscles didn't fit his boyish face came over and stood guard over me while the first guard went in the building and did me at least one kindness.

It took a goddamn half hour. I set my suitcase upright and sat on it, fanning myself. Wearing long sleeves was necessary, but it was hotter than a Georgian August in L.A. currently. We had had such a cold winter at the beginning of the year, I was just not prepared for Fall In Hell. I sat fanning myself, sweating like a hog without any make-up, for the entire time. Finally, the door opened again and the guard came out with the hotel key and a little piece of paper folded up. I took both, thanked him half-heartedly, and caught a cab. I didn't open the note until I was seated in the cool of the car.

Nell  
The room is 752.  
There's a dress on the bed for you. I assume you didn't bring anything overly nice to wear so I got something. Thank God Shay knows what size you wear. The receipt is with it, if you don't like it. Please be ready by 7:30.  
Love,  
Ben

It was currently 2:15, so that at least gave me time to shower, do my hair and make-up, and dress, but not go shopping for a new dress. I hoped his fashion sense didn't fail me now.

I didn't so much as look at the dress when I got in. I blatantly refused to look at it when I walked in, looking up at the ceiling with my glasses off and throwing the blanket over it blindly so that I wasn't worried about it. Whatever it was, I would wear it. I did, however, notice the shoes he had apparently bought to go with it, and I was in love with them. They were dark floral platform pumps with an ankle strap, basically my dream shoes. Aw, he did pay attention to what I like.

I scrubbed myself clean and washed my hair as if it hadn't been washed in a decade, and by the time I was dry and ready to get dressed, I smelled like a goddess of potpourri. I realized that in order to do my hair, I at least needed to see what the dress looked like, so I threw the blanket back and stared long and hard.

"Jesus Christ."

How could I have ever doubted that man? The dress was gorgeous. I had to put it on immediately, and once I did I stood on the edge of the bathtub so that I could see it fully in the mirror and almost fell on my face. But it was worth it. It was a black lace gown with a high collar and long sleeves, and a flowing skirt with a high-low hem. It was dressier than I would normally choose to wear to a dinner, so I wondered if maybe he went a little overboard, but it was completely outstanding nonetheless.

After twirling around in it all around the room and trying on the shoes and completely goofing off for about half an hour, I realized the time and got to work on my hair and face. I decided that up was best and got to work. My make-up complimented the dress by being quite nude and simple, and I was pleased to find that my gold earrings worked well with the gold hues in the flowers on the shoes. When I was done, I felt and looked like a fucking queen.

But the pervasive question was, what the hell was Ben up to? Where were we going? And why, oh why, was it now 7:45 and he wasn't here?

Where are you?

Got behind in traffic. Meet me outside in 5 minutes.

"Shit!" I hurriedly threw my phone and make-up and wallet and emergency feminine supplies in my purse, just in case, and bolted to the elevator, only just managing to remember the room key before the door closed, which basically saved my skin. I got down to the first floor and out the door without further incident, making it just in time to see Ben pulling around the side of the hotel to the front, where he stopped. I got in, setting my purse between my feet, and didn't notice him staring at me until I was buckled up. He had an eyebrow raised as he looked me over.

"Much better than expected, actually. I do love those heels on you." Good grief, the look he was giving me and the hand on my thigh told me that he planned to keep me in these shoes all night - but, the rest of the outfit would have to go. I realized with a blush that he was probably frustrated with having not been intimate since he left the set of In This Day and Age in July. I know I was, at least, but I had known from the start that this relationship was going to wreak havoc on any idea of regular sex I had in mind. I 'tsk'ed him and moved his hand off my thigh.

"Behave yourself, Benedict. You aren't getting anything until I at least know where we're going. You know I don't like secrets". His hand snaked back to his place on my thigh but I didn't push it away this time.

"No, you don't mind surprises. You just don't like not knowing things." He responded, slow and low and ultra sexy - or was that just my brain in maximum gutter mode?

"Give it a rest, Sherlock," I teased, but he shot me a playful glare and teased his hand further up. I slapped him hard enough to make him take it off my skin, so instead he grinned and put it back on the steering wheel.

"We're going to a benefit," He said finally, making a turn onto a street that held our destination, a large convention center that was often used for these things. "For Orphans of War." At that, I just stared at him, thinking hard about who I was dating. When he caught my blank stare, he cocked his eyebrow again. "What on Earth is that look for?"

"I didn't know I was dating Shay." I said with a shrug.

"What?"

"This is the exact same benefit that Shay was talking about going to last year, but she couldn't swing it. She is going to absolutely piss herself when I tell her where I am."

"Oh she knows. How else was I supposed to figure out what to get for you to wear? Speaking of Shay," He held out his hand. "Give me your phone. I need to see if you can survive the night without her."

"Rude!" I squeaked, holding tighter to my purse with my knees. "I can survive just fine!"

"Then you shouldn't mind."

I almost protested, but then thought about it. Was it really going to kill me to not have my phone on me for a few hours? No, not at all. Shay could survive - plus, this was a benefit. The very least I could do was pay attention to the subject material and not tweet every three seconds. He did hate that.

"Fine." I said with a pout, and handed him my phone. "It's locked, though. You don't need in it."

He tossed it lightly into the back seat, along with his own as a sign of good will. "Nope." Then Ben took my hand in his after we parked. "Now, we can at least spend the night together without that distracting us." My stomach fluttered at the soft smile he gave me. What was a cell phone to a (relatively) quiet night? I would tell Shay every bit when I dove for my phone afterwards.

We left the car and headed inside to the banquet hall. While there were certainly cameras around, they were not of the classless paparazzi kind and more of the slightly-less-dickish legitimate journalist kind. They took quiet pictures of people as they entered - some of the faces I knew well, and some I could only barely place, but most I had no idea who they were other than socialites and philanthropists. There were several producers going to the benefit, some of whom I had worked with before. There were the actors, few A-listers though. I caught a glimpse of Selena Gomez who, though I had yet to meet her, I knew that she was heavily into charity work and the like.

Ben and I walked in, his pinky around mine but otherwise we walked quite separately. I realized how comfortable I had become in front of these journalists over the past year or so, and that my stomach wasn't tangled up or heaving in anxiety. It was easy to see just how much of a popular figure Benedict was. Between the terrifying popularity of Sherlock, his award-worthy roles in The Hobbit and Star Trek and now even Star Wars, and his overall tendency to be just a lovely man, everyone knew his name and face. He mingled easily, introducing me to people who were more than just acquaintances. I was tickled pink that on more than a few of these introductions, we just kind of smiled and said a variant of "Oh, we're acquainted already."

I wasn't completely unnoticed, either; before the benefit truly started I had several people come up to me to chat. I even had someone propose getting me "into" an audition, but I just blushed shyly and told them that I was "working on a large project," quiet enough so that Ben couldn't hear. He was nosey and I wasn't prepared to answer a lot of questions about Batwoman just yet. Not because I didn't want to, but because I didn't know enough yet.

"Oh my god," I whispered to Ben, gazing off at the back of a gray head. "Is it...?"Ben looked in that direction for a moment until he found who I was talking about. 

"Oh, him? Yes, that is exactly who you are thinking about." And then, against my wishes, he pushed me towards the man I had been openly staring at.

"Mister Clinton," Ben said, thankfully not interrupting him. And yes, when he turned to look at who was asking for him, it was indeed Bill Clinton. I could have passed out.

"Benedict!" Bill said, gripping Ben's hand warmly. I don't know how close the two were in truth, but I did know that both of them were always friendly and just plain fucking adorable. "Glad you could make it. Are you still working on Star Wars?"

"I am, yes," Ben said as they finished their handshake. "We're just finishing up for the next couple weeks, then it's out of my hands. Oh, this is my girlfriend, Nell Fraiser." I will admit that as the word 'girlfriend' slipped out of his lips, I almost slipped into a coma.

"I've heard that name," Bill said, turning to me with a gentle smile. Then he took my hand, nervous as I was, and shook it. "How are you, Miss Nell?"

I gaped. I had a twitter friendship with Miley Cyrus. Robert Downey Jr. and I were on great terms (after I hit him in the nipple, of course.). I often had coffee with a variety ofhousehold names when I was in L.A. But this was something else entirely.

"Oh holy mother of--" I said hoarsely, cutting myself off before I made too big of an ass out of myself. "I'm shaking the President's hand."

He gave a chuckle, and then clapped me on the shoulder. "I think you're a few years behind, dear. It's been 'Former President' for a long while now."

"I'm in denial." I said with an innocent grin. Then his chuckle turned into an outright laugh.

"If only Hillary was, as well."

I cursed Ben so much at that point. My mother was going to kill me if she found out that I met Bill Clinton, who was basically her dream man regardless of the Monica Lewinsky stuff, and didn't get a picture with him. I guess I just wasn't going to tell her.

As if. I was just going to take the beating, because how could I not tell her about this?

But it was all over nearly as soon as it began. The benefit was about to start, so Ben escorted me, hand on my hip, to where we were going to be sitting. Then he realized something, ran his thumb along my hip, and leaned in to whisper to me.

"Nell, are you wearing pants?"

I leaned back in, my face tinted pink. "If I had known we were going to a goddamn benefit, I would have put some on."

I was a bit surprised as the hushed response: "Thank God I didn't tell you, then." My pink cheeks grew brighter.

We were seated with a few other people; an actor and his wife, whose names I couldn't place quite clearly; a director who I hadn't worked with but knew on a first-name basis; and a middle-aged woman who wouldn't shut up about how much of her husband's money was so going to this cause.

$500 for dinner (which honestly was not at all filling. Delicious? Yes. But I was definitely going to make Ben really stop at the In-N-Out burger this time) and then a silent pledge. Ben and I both made contributions, nothing particularly hefty considering what we brought in in a year, but enough that we hoped it would make a difference. I learned a lot about the things that Shay had been trying to tell me about for years, about the squalor the war victims lived in and especially what sort of horrors fell on the shoulders of children whose parents had been killed because of civil or international violence. Shay was a talker, but these people illustrated it on a huge screen. I am a visual person with a fantastic ability to just absorb verbal meanings without imagining the reality, so while I had furrowed my brow at what Shay has said to me, I nearly cried at what I was shown.

Several hours later, after the continued mixing when the benefit disbanded, I did, in fact, make Ben stop at an In-N-Out burger. He wrinkled his nose at my "gross" food but honestly it had been so long since I had had any meat that I was prepared to bite into a cow if I had to. Shay had described me as a carnivore and I'll be damned if it wasn't true. Only by the miracle of Shay's vegetarianism and my commitment to the gym (despite how much I moaned about it) was I not a chubby monkey or more.

Full and happy and having texted Shay, I fell back onto the bed with a sigh and patted beside me for Ben to come lay down, too. He just shook his head and, instead, crawled over me and gave me a kiss.

"Oh, you bought me dinner, so I have'ta fuck ya', is that it?" I teased, drawing my knee up the outside of his thigh. My accusation was met by him sitting up in a kneel and looking over me.

"You don't have to, but you want to." He said darkly, catching my lip bite and the way I was looking at him. I just gave a slight nod, then pulled him back down by his shirt collar. Off went the jacket into the floor, and as our tongues explored each other's mouth, I wrenched his shirt unbuttoned. His hands drew my dress up to my waist then off over my head. As our lips separated to allow my clothes to come off, he caught sight of something he didn't want to see: my bruised arms.

"Nell," He said, moving away from me and holding one arm by my wrist. "What happened?"

"Nothing," I defended too quickly, trying to pull my arm from him. It was a no-win situation, I realized immediately. Either I told him about my training, or he assumed someone had beat the ever living shit out of me.

"Something!" He spat, taking my other wrist and examining that arm as well. "Little Dove, who did this to you?"

"No one, Ben. It's literally just from me being a clumsy idiot." I was trying to salvage anything I could, anything to make him just say 'okay' and get back to the whole sex thing or even just to make him give up and go to bed. Neither, it seemed, were going to happen.

"I swear to God, Nell," He said as he took my face in his hands, stroking my cheeks with his thumbs. I could see the concern in his furrowed brow and the way he pulled his lips in tight. "If someone hurt you, I'll-"

"Nobody hurt me, Ben!" Frustrated, I pushed him over then came to straddle him, switching the power balance so I could feel comfortable while I thought. I put my hands on his chest, just looking at him while I formulated a good response. "It's because I've been... training."

"For what?"

I groaned. Technically, I wasn't supposed to tell anyone, not even Shay. But I had already broken that rule once. "It's not public yet, so don't fucking say anything. D.C. approached me and wants me to play Kate Kane next year, in a standalone. I met with a trainer today and just got banged up - by my own fault, not his." I could see confusion cross his face, then relief as he sighed.

He touched one of the larger bruises near my shoulder. They weren't bad, not like the big black and purple monstrosities you see in movies. They were just light brown splotches, a little red here and there, and most were small, just peppering my arms enough that it certainly looked like I had gotten hit many times. "Fuck, Nell, why didn't you just say that? You had me worried." His eyes met mine, and they were just a little sad. "I don't want to ever see anyone hurt you, turtledove. I love you too much to stand by if I have even the slightest notion that someone has put their hands on you. I don't care if it's your brother, or another actor, or even Shay. I'll keep your secrets, just don't keep them from me if it's only going to make me worried about your safety."

I brushed the hair off of his forehead and gave him an apologetic pout. "I'm sorry, Benny. I didn't mean..."

"I know, sweet girl," He said, then brought me into a hug. I buried my face in the crook of his neck and held tight to him as he rolled us onto our sides. "I'm not mad at all. Not even a bit."

All hope of deep, passionate, somewhat rough sex was lost by this point, but after a few minutes of cuddling we were certainly in the mood for something else. We kissed and whispered lovely things to one another for a time too long to recount, our fingers brushing each other almost innocently, as if we were young and new and frightened, asking for permission for every tiny stroke. When he moved over me, he kept his body close to mine, his breath gentle against my neck and my lips. It was slow, the way we made love... It was apologetic and somewhat scared, but it was ultimately love all the same, and by the time we had exhausted one another, we were out of words as well as energy.

I moved back into my position of comfort, head on his chest, leg hooked around his. Ben wrapped an arm around me and stroked my back until I fell asleep.

When Ben woke up, I managed to force myself up into a sitting position. I couldn't come to the set with him, so I would have to entertain myself in other ways until my audition for the other film. I was probably going to go back to bed, but I wanted to see him off. By the time I was awake enough to put my glasses on, he was already half dressed and smiling at me.

"Ah, good to see you're awake, Batwoman." He said, leaning over to ruffle my hair. I smiled sleepily, rubbing my eyes under my glasses and regretting having not braided my hair before I fell asleep.

"God, you're going to make fun of me forever, aren't you?"

"For what? Playing Batwoman?" He laughed. "No, but I certainly will make fun of you for bruising up your own damn self."

I groaned and threw myself back into the pillows. "I've never done an action role before! Don't blame me, I'm just not prepared yet!"

He climbed over me and kissed my forehead, bringing a smile back to my face. Pleased with his work, he kiss my smile, as well. I could taste the fresh minty aftertaste on his lips, and I loved that I was the first thing to touch them after he did his morning wash.

"You'll do fine." He whispered, just barely leaving my lips. What a teasing asshole. "I feel confident in you as an actor."

I thanked him, reaching up to smooth his hair back like I liked it. We stayed just like that for a little while, just barely kissing here and there between words. I was trying to tell him about the damn movie, but he wouldn't stop pressing his lips to mine every few seconds, and that would make me giggle, and then I would have to start again. Finally, breathless and playfully annoyed at having to restart my sentences, I pushed him away.

"Go on, you little shit," I said, giving him one good smack on the rump. "Go be a space pirate or whatever the hell you're playing."

With that, he grinned, grabbed his keys, and left. I was too giddy to fall back asleep, so I just read my scripts... and then broke a lamp while pretending to be Batwoman. Fuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's nearly finals time, so give me some extra time to post chapters. D8 Also, let me know what kind of things you want to see! Nell and Ben have some great things planned, but I am so willing to write whatever y'all want! :)


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